Crimes and Misdemeanors
by Powerfulweak
Summary: Police Officer Castiel Novak has a handle on things. At least he thinks he does until he's punched in the face by a green-eyed hothead. It all spirals out from there.
1. Drunk and Disorderly

_**Finally deciding to post this here. Unbeta'd, but big props to husband for his input about police-related things. Cover image by Cheriiart (same name on tumblr)**_

Cas can feel the migraine starting and he hasn't even been on shift four hours yet. It doesn't help that the "drunk and disorderly" in the backseat won't shut the fuck up. He rubs the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

"God give me strength," he mumbles before turning around to face the man behind the grated partition in his backseat, "Hey fuckwad! Pipe down!" The suspect stops kicking at Cas' seat at his outburst and glares at the officer. He doesn't look like your normal criminal type. Cas is used to dealing with meth heads and drunken trailer trash. With large green eyes, broad shoulders and tanned skin, this guy looks like a male model, but Cas well knows that pretty-boy types with daddy's money can be violent criminals too.

The suspect is cuffed, knocking his head against the back of the seat like a petulant child. When Castiel had arrived, he had been about to get into a fist fight with the owner of the bar that he had just been kicked out of. Normally, Castiel would have just taken him in on a "drunk in public" charge, until the GQ-model-wannabe had reeled back and clocked Castiel. Now, in addition to drunk and disorderly, he was going to be charged with a felony assault of an officer. Castiel catches his reflection in the rearview mirror, grimacing at growing bruise at his cheekbone. He touches it gingerly, wincing at the pain. Castiel hears pretty boy cluck his tongue from the backseat.

"Oh, did I hurt you, officer?" GQ Wannabe has crunched down his large frame against the door, feet pushed up against the front seat, sarcastically pouting toward Cas. "Hurt that pretty face of yours? Worried you're not going to be attractive anymore? Ah, well don't worry, officer. You're still pretty. You got those big ol' baby blues and those pink, full lips." The suspect runs a tongue over his bottom lip and gives a humorless laugh. Cas can feel his ear reddening in embarrassment. Castiel isn't used to this kind of behavior. He can handle surly suspects, violent suspects, suspects so high they've called him mommy, but flirtatious…this is new. It doesn't help that the guy is astronomically hot and he's barely flirted with by non-criminal types.

"Aww, look you blush, too. How sweet. You got really nice lips, y'know? Those dick-sucking lips." the guy's mouth curls into a sly grin, "I wonder what my cock would look like with those DSLs wrapped around it. Mmmm, bet that would feel _real_ nice. Bet you have the kind of mouth that just won't quit." Castiel can feel his cheeks warming at the man's words. He can't deny the coil of warmth that has pooled in his gut in response, but he _can_ maintain his professional demeanor as he takes a deep breath to clear his head.

"I said shut the fuck up!" Ok, mostly professional.

The suspect cackles with laughter. Castiel rolls his eyes as he grabs the radio.

"Unit 16 calling in. I need a check on a suspect, white male, name…" Cas glances down at the ID card he grabbed out of the man's wallet and frowns, "Jesus Christ… Disregard that please." The desk sergeant calls back an affirmative as Castiel rifles through the wallet he confiscated earlier. Sighing, Castiel turns toward the backseat.

"Where is your actual ID?" He says. The man cocks an eyebrow and tips his head toward Cas.

"You've got it." he says. Castiel glowers at him, holding up three different ID cards.

"This one says you're the lead guitarist of Led Zeppelin. This one has you as the Incredible Hulk's alter ego and this one says you are the lead singer of Motorhead, _Mr. Kilmister_," Castiel lays the sarcasm on thick. The man just smiles, running a pink tongue over one of his canines, distracting Castiel just enough to derail his train of thought. Cas blinks a few times before continuing. "Now, where is your ID?" The smile drops off the suspect's face and he shoots Cas a withering look.

"What are you gonna do? Arrest me," he spits sarcastically. "Or would you rather bend me over the hood and strip search me?" He blows a kiss toward the officer. Cas clenches his jaw in frustration and once again grabs the radio.

"Unit 16 calling in. Suspect in custody, refuses to give name. White male, six foot, 175 pounds, light brown hair…"

"Soft tongue, mouth like a hoover, ass you could bounce a quarter off of... " the man interrupts from the backseat. "You know you want to test that out, officer." Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel catches the wink in his direction.

"Green eyes…" Castiel continues, glaring at his charge over his shoulder. "Please check for any open warrants with suspects fitting this description, over." Cas drops the radio and leans his head back against the partition, rubbing the bridge of his nose tightly. He is getting a drink once he gets off shift, that's a necessity. A drink and a couple motrin. And definitely a little private time in the shower when he gets home. He can hear his suspect shifting around in the backseat. He glances a look at the guy, now reclining over the bench seat, one leg propped up. He looks like he's posing. Castiel had to hand it to the guy, not many people could pull off "male-model" while intoxicated.

"Like what you see?" the suspect says with a sly grin, catching Cas staring at him. Cas quickly faces forward, ears once again warming in embarrassment.

"It's ok if you look. I don't mind," The man repositions himself, hands still cuffed behind him. He sits up straight, leaning forward to the grate and plexiglass partition. "I was checking you out earlier. As soon as you got out of the car, all I wanted to do was take a bite out of you. I like a man in uniform, y'know, and you wear yours _very_ well. I just want to hook my legs around your waist, ride you like a bronco. You could just lay back and fuck up into me. Mmmm… You got me so hard just thinking about it." Castiel watches him from the rearview, leaning back into the seat and spreading his legs wide. He obviously isn't lying about his arousal, his thick cock clearly outlined against his blue jeans.

"We could have some real fun, me and you. Bet we could put these cuffs," he pulls his hands to the side to show them, "to very good use, not to mention that weapon you're packing. And I'm not talking about the .38 on your hip."

Castiel breathes deep, slyly pressing the heel of his hand to the base of his groin. Dirty talk always gets him going. He's thankful for the crackle of the radio cutting off the suspects increasingly lewd (hot) banter.

"Unit 16, no open warrants matching that description." the desk sergeant replies. Castiel curses under his breath as he grabs the radio.

"Unit 16 here. suspect in custody, name unknown, on drunk and…"

"There are so many things I want to do to you. You ever been rimmed, Officer?" The suspect interrupts Castiel, "Would you want that? My tongue lapping at your hole? I bet I could have you coming just like that. Look ma, no hands!" He gives a wicked laugh at his own joke.

".. Disorderly, resisting arrest, public…"

"… You can get rough with me. I like it kind of rough. You wanna throw me down? Press me into the mattress and just slam into me."

"um… Public, public intoxication… um..." Castiel grits his teeth and tries to focus on something, anything, trying to drown out the utter filth being whispered to him behind the glass. He cups his hardened cock, whimpering in relief at even the slightest touch.

"Or would you rather have me on top? I could take you apart nice and slow, fuck you open before just sliding into to you. I would fuck you 'til you couldn't see straight, baby …"

"Um… Pleas dis… um, Disregard, please." Castiel turns toward the backseat, catching his captive's hooded eyes and wolfish grin. "I said shut the fuck up." His voice is even, his mouth a hard line, but his anger seems to radiate from his eyes. More sarcastic laughter bubbles from the backseat.

"The only way you're shutting me up, _Officer_, is if you shove that thick cock of yours down my throat." The suspect smirks at Castiel. For a moment, the air is still. Castiel's face is impassive, eyes locked on the man in cuffs in the back of his squad car. Slowly, he reaches over and turns off the radio with a soft click.

In a matter of seconds, Castiel exits the car and pulls model-wannabe out of the backseat, throwing him onto the gravel behind the squad car. He grabs him by the collar and drags him out of view from the road.

"On your fucking knees" Castiel hisses. The man scrambles to his knees. He quickly works on his belt as he approaches his suspect. The man still has his cocky grin, but the look of fear in his eyes is hard to ignore. Castiel quickly undoes his fly and pulls out his throbbing member.

"This what you want?" His mouth set in an angry grimace. His pale blue eyes are blown wide; out of lust or anger, it's hard to tell. Castiel approaches him, cock hot in his hand. His fingers suddenly dart out, grabbing the suspect's jaw and prying open his mouth roughly. Without pretense, Cas slams his shaft down the man's throat.

"That's what you fucking want, right?" Castiel spits out between his teeth. The suspect gags in surprise at the intrusion. He coughs and sputters for less than a minute before finding his bearings. He draws his head back, hollowing his cheeks as he does, before once again swallowing down Cas' cock. Castiel groans at the slick warmth of his mouth. He moves his fingers from the suspect's jaw, sliding them up to grasp handfuls of short, brown hair.

"Oh God!", Cas cries out as his back slams into the side of the car. The man licks up and down his shaft before wrapping his tongue around the head of his cock, lapping rhythmically over the slit. Castiel stares down at the man, thick lips shamelessly working over him, hands still cuffed behind his back. It's a depraved sight and it causes Castiel to pull tighter on the suspect's hair. He pulls off of Castiel's cock suddenly and stares up at him, saliva and precome coating his lips.

"You can fuck my mouth, if you want." he offers, and if Castiel wasn't already rock hard, that would have done it. With a growl, he tugs the man's face toward him, drawing himself in to the hilt. He begins to fuck in at a frantic pace, chasing his orgasm. The suspect's mouth is soft and pliant, tightening as he shoves the head of his cock down his throat.

"Oh fuck, your mouth… it's so… Jesus," Castiel can't control his random babbling. The man just looks up at him, green eyes sparkling and hums around his cock. Castiel bites his lip to stop a moan from escaping. His pace becomes more erratic and he can feel the suction of the suspect's mouth tightening.

"Fuck, I'm gonna…" Cas' vision blurs a little as he releases down the man's throat. He swallows like a pro, a few droplets escaping down the sides of his mouth. Castiel's knees buckle and he leans back against the squad car before sliding to the ground. Both men are panting heavily. Castiel looks toward the man, mouth wet, come dribbling down his chin, and surges toward him in a filthy kiss. He revels in the taste of his own release on the man's tongue. The kiss is fierce and quick. As he draws back, he takes a second to lick his come off of the model wannabe's mouth. Cas tucks himself back into his pants as he gives him a lazy smile.

"Dean" the man says quietly, still catching his breath.

"What?" Cas is shaken from his revelry.

"My name is Dean." The suspect, Dean, looks up at him with serious wide eyes. Castiel would almost say "demure" if he wasn't aware of what he was capable of. He smiles as he reaches for his gun belt, removing a handcuff key.

"Well, Dean" Castiel moves behind him and undoes his cuff, "I should bring you into the station, but it seems that you just… overpowered me, and got away." He smiles impishly. Dean rubs at his wrist and huffs a laugh.

"Yeah, I supposed I did." He stretches his arms above his head, revealing just a sliver of skin at his midriff. Dean bites his lip, it's a shy gesture, and Castiel wants to laugh at this personality change in him

"I really did shut you up," he kids. Dean grins sweetly and runs a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, you kinda did, I guess," he laughs. His eyes fall on Cas' name badge, "Well, uh, I guess I should get out of here, _Officer Novak_. Thank you." Dean gives a toothy grin, and Castiel can feel his inside melt into a puddle. As Dean turns to walk away, Castiel's heart constricts. Before he can stop himself, Cas quickly strides after him.

"Dean! hey… Um, if you … uh… If you're ever out, um, drinking… uh," Castiel takes a deep breath, composing himself and putting on his 'serious cop voice', "Next time you're out, before you do anything stupid, like get tossed out of a bar, you can call this number and I can make sure you get home safe." He hands him a small white card. Dean looks at it thoughtfully.

"Oh, thanks man. 'Castiel Novak'," he reads aloud. He glances at the officer and arches an eyebrow, "_Castiel__?_"

"Just call me Cas" he mutters, trying to fight the burning embarrassment in his cheeks. He points toward the card, "That has, um, my personal cell number. You can call anytime if you need a ride or… something." Dean looks up through thick eyelashes and smiles warmly.

"You want to give me a ride, huh?" And now Cas really is blushing. Dean chuckles lightly as he pats his back pocket. "I think you still have my wallet." Cas perks up and open the front door of the squad car, reaching over and grabbing Dean's wallet off the passenger seat. He hands it to Dean, who carefully places Cas' card inside.

"You got a pen?" Dean asks. Cas hands him the pen out of his shirt pocket. Dean grabs Cas' hand and begins to write. "This is my number. Just in case you need a ride." Dean winks at Cas, causing the blush to creep up to his ears. He loves the warm feeling of Dean's hands as they hold open his palm.

Castiel checks the area and pushes his shoulders back, attempting to instill the image of 'badass cop' instead of 'guy with a crush'.

"I oughta get out of here. So should you," he looks pointedly at Dean.

"What are you going to say about my escape?" Dean asks, green eyes betraying his concern. Cas shrugs lightly.

"I don't know. You punched me?" Cas replies sarcastically. Dean laughs, and he looks at Cas one more time. Without warning, he surges forward and catches Cas' mouth in a kiss, pressing him hard against the side of the car. It's a fast, frantic meeting of lips and tongues and Castiel can't help his hands from rising up and carding through Dean's hair. As quickly as it started, it's over and Dean pulls away. He carefully runs a thumb over the bruise on Cas' cheek and smiles.

"See you around, Officer," Dean says, "Don't lose that number, ok?" He walks down the street before turning the corner and in a moment, he's gone.

Castiel stands there for a minute, collecting himself. He looks down at his hand and runs his fingers over the phone number written on his palm. He enjoys the warmth that coils in his stomach as he gets back in the car and drives off.

* * *

_I'm on tumblr as well under the same name _


	2. Repeat Offender

Cas doesn't think he'd see Dean again. Until he does.

His shift is ending and he changes into his civvies. The early-morning calm is giving away to the bustle of the shift turnover. Castiel grabs his gear bag from his locker, hoping to get out of there before Balthazar could talk him into breakfast. He enjoys his meals with Balthazar, but the thought of more greasy diner food makes his stomach turn.

He gets in the squad car, mind running over the last night. There had been a robbery a TGI Friday's, a couple of house parties with noise complaints, a naked man running around a residential area… so nothing out of the ordinary for a Friday night. That seemed to be his life now. None of his shifts in the last few weeks had been that exciting as his… rendezvous with Dean. Of course it was hard to compare to an incident which was both the strangest working experience and the hottest sexual encounter of his life.

Castiel had thought about Dean a lot in the last few weeks. He had practically chafed the skin off his dick thinking about Dean. He wants to feel the warmth of his mouth again, wants to look down at wet, sparkling eyes as he went down on Cas, wants Dean to kiss him again. More than anything, he wants to do everything else Dean had talked about in the back of the car.

Really, though, Castiel doesn't think he'll hear from Dean again. A guy like Dean, someone legitimately, unequivocally hot, probably has men and women jumping into his bed everyday. Castiel knows he isn't hard on the eyes, but his looks fall more along the lines of "Interesting" rather than traditionally attractive. Still, he preens at the memory of Dean complimenting his eyes or his (ahem) dick-sucking lips.

Dean can do better, Castiel thinks, so he hasn't bothered to call. Not to mention the amount of trouble he's facing if anyone found out what actually happened. Well… anyone else.

"_I'm surprised, Cassie," Balthazar said, taking a sip of his coffee, "You're not usually the type to do something so entirely stupid." He cocked an eyebrow at Cas, who sheepishly munched on his hash browns. He'd told Balthazar everything the morning after it had happened. They sat at their normal booth, in their normal diner, where Bal had sat stone-faced until Cas had finished his story. _

"_It wasn't my proudest moment," Cas admitted, eliciting a snort from his fellow officer, "It wasn't!" Cas countered defensively._

"_Please," Balthazar rolled his eyes, "You're practically beaming. 'Oh an attractive man in handcuffs wanted to blow me, waaah'" Balthazar mocked in a childish tone, earning a snort from Cas._

"_You're one to talk. Shit like this seems to happen to you all the time." Cas glared at him pointedly._

"_With strangers, yes. Suspects who I have in custody, no. Honestly, Cas, do you have an idea the number of ways this could blow up in your face is anyone were to find out? Receiving sexual favors, suspect fleeing custody (under dubious circumstances to boot), What if this guy tries to extort you?… Are you even sure he's of age?" Balthazar ticked every item off on his fingers as he recited them. _

"_He's of age… I'm pretty sure." Castiel retorts. Balthazar lets his head fall into his hands, exasperated. "But you don't seem to get it, Bal." His friend looks up with tired eyes._

"_Alright then, enlighten me," Balthazar leaned back in the booth with a smirk. Castiel was at a loss for words._

"_It was hot as fuck?" Castiel shrugged as Balthazar gave a wan laugh, "And anyway, I'm not telling anyone. Just you. It's not like you haven't done anything like this before. Remember that one chick behind the Home Depot? Wanted to get out of a speeding ticket?"  
_"_That was a great day." Balthazar looked into space wistfully._

"_Until she gave you the clap." Castiel rolled his eyes._

"_That was a less great day." Balthazar agreed before taking a bite of his food._

He drives in silence when he's shaken from his thoughts by the trill of his cell phone. He picks it up and looks at the unfamiliar number on the screen. He debates answering the call, weighing the hypocrisy of breaking the "hands-free only" law, but to get a call at 4 am normally means something bad.

"Novak," He answers the phone with his normal greeting.

"Um Hey, uh… Cas? Is this Cas?" The voice on the other end is brusque and familiar.

"um, Speaking" Castiel responds with hesitation. "Dean?"

"Yeah, hey Cas, I'm at this bar downtown and I was wondering if you could come and get me." Castiel is speechless. His joy of hearing from Dean again only trumped by the utter shock of it.

"Uh… yeah, ok," He says after a beat."Where're you at?"

"I don't know. It's downtown somewhere. Hey, what's the name of this place?" He can hear Dean speaking to someone else, "um… The Bronze Boar. Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah, I can be there in 10." Castiel knows of the Bronze Boar. It's a dive that doubles as an after hours club. Cas has been called there several times on duty. He drives toward downtown, nerves on edge at the thought of seeing Dean again. He can already feel the warmth rising to his face. Cas doesn't know if he'd be able to maintain his professional composure with Dean so close to him. The memory of Dean's cologne already has him half hard and to have the real thing right here in the car with him threatens to put his senses on overload.

He takes a deep breath, focusing on keeping a straight face, as he parks the car one block over. He would've driven right to the bar, but the sight of police vehicles usually put people on edge. He walks toward the bar, noticing several people milling about around the entrance. He can see Dean near the doorway talking to a red haired girl. As Cas approaches them, the girl to shoots him a sideways look. Dean turns toward Cas and smiles.

"Officer, look at you. All casual-like" He chides, patting a hand down Cas' shoulder. Cas takes pleasure at the contact, but keeps his face impassive.

"Thanks," Cas says quietly, hoping Dean won't also comment on the rising blush of his cheeks.

"You off work?" Dean's brows pull together.

"Yeah, just got off. Ready to go?" he asks quickly. He glances toward the girl, who gives him a tight smile, "Do you need a ride too?"

"I'm solid," the girl replies, giving Cas a thumbs up. Dean takes Cas by the arm and directs back the way he came.

"C'mon, let's go." He moves his arm toward the center of Cas' back as he shoots a goodbye over his shoulder to the redhead. Cas can feel the warmth of Dean's palm through his thin jacket and unconsciously presses back into it. They walk down the block in silence, the ambient noise of early morning traffic providing a sufficient soundtrack.

"Do I get to sit in the front this time?" Dean gives Cas a wry grin as they approach the squad car. Cas doesn't say anything, only smirks in response, and unlocks the door

"Don't worry about my gear bag, just kick it to the side," Cas says, noticing his bag in the footwell of the passenger side. They climb into the car, Dean pausing to examine the numerous electronics over the Dash.

"This is some 'Night Rider' shit right here," Dean mumbles absently. Cas snorts as he starts the engine.

"Yeah, if Night Rider was a 2001 Malibu," Dean laughs at Cas' deadpan response and he leans back into the seat. He hums as he digs himself down deeper into the upholstery, his eyes slipping closed. Cas frowns and glances at Dean.

"Are you on something?" He's more annoyed than angry at the thought of Dean on drugs.

"Nah, I'm clean. Just tired and a little drunk right now." He opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around the car. "If you're off work, why do you still have the car?"

"It's my car," Cas answers without further explanation.

"You seriously bought a cop car?" Dean raises an quizzical eyebrow. Cas just shakes his head.

"No, it's the car assigned to me. There's a public safety initiative where we get to bring the cars home." Cas explains, sounding like he's talking to a DARE class, "They think that having cop cars in neighborhoods can reduce the crime rate it that area." He smiles at Dean.

"That's fucking stupid," Dean says after a beat.

"Believe it or not it actually works," Cas sighs, "Now, where am I headed?" Dean rattles off a few street names as Cas follows his directions. They pull up outside a large apartment complex. Cas notes that it isn't one of the classier neighborhoods, dispelling his original assumption of Dean being a rich kid with Daddy's money.

"So?" Dean rouses him from his thoughts, giving Cas an expectant look. His hand was on the door, ready to exit, but he seems to be waiting for something from Cas.

"What?" Cas says, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

"Are you coming up?" Cas scrubs a hand down his face, shaking his head and sighing heavily.

"Dean, that's really not a good idea." He finally says. Dean's brows furrow as he let go of the door handle, crossing his arms.

"Was it a good idea when I blew you?" Dean accuses, sarcastically.

"No, it wasn't. It was a moment of weakness." Cas admits, "The whole situation is biting me in the ass, actually. I'm still under investigation."

"Why?" Dean asks, suddenly concerned.

"Because I let a suspect get away, even if he did 'overtake me'" Dean smiles at Cas' air-quotes, "It doesn't matter, Dean. It was a really stupid thing to do on duty." Cas leans back, resting his head against the partition."I'm happy to help you with things like this, but I need to remain professional." Dean looks down, quirking a smile.

"Are you on duty now?' Cas turns to look at him, catching green, hopeful eyes.

"No, I told you."

"Am I under arrest now?" Cas' shoulders sag at the question

"Of course not." he responds, brows pulled tight.

"So then I guess we're just two consenting adults not doing anything illegal, being totally professional" Dean grasps the door handle and gives Cas a wicked grin, "Cas when I said I was going to fuck you until you couldn't see straight, that was a promise. Not a suggestion." Dean exits the car in an instant. It takes Castiel a moment to pull his thoughts together enough to follow.

"Wait, wait, wait," Cas follows after Dean, "Can I ask one question?"

"Shoot"

"Just for my own peace of mind… how old are you? Do I need to be worried about Chris Hanson showing up at my door?" Cas inquires and Dean laughs.

"Are you asking me if I'm of age?" He raises an eyebrow curiously. Cas gives a quick nod. "Yeah, man. I'm 20." He turns and walks toward the front door of the building.

"Then what's with all the IDs?" Cas presses, following him. Dean shoots Cas a withering look.

"I'm. 20." Dean responds, very deliberately. It takes Cas a second before it clicks.

"Can't get into bars." He states plainly, Dean smirking at his obliviousness.

"Got it in one." He leans in, kissing Cas. Dean's lips are warm as they work over his. The memory of Dean's mouth has nothing on the reality of it as Cas sinks into the feeling of the kiss. It takes only a moment before Cas kisses back, trailing his tongue along the seam of Dean's mouth, but before he can go further Dean draws back and opens the door of the building.

"Than why do you have three?" Cas is tenacious. Dean lets out an exasperated sigh.

"It doesn't matter right now. C'mon," he mumbles as he pulls Cas inside. They climb the stairs quickly, Dean remarking that the elevator was busted as they climb to the third floor. When they reach the door, he presses a hand to Cas' chest.

"I need you to be quiet," he says in a harsh whisper, "My brother sleeps on the couch and he's got school in the morning." Dean silently opens the door, pulling Cas inside the darkened room. Cas wants to ask about this, but Dean seems to be making a beeline for somewhere in the apartment, Cas' hand grasped tightly in his. He can make out the basic shapes of furniture in the ambient light from the street below and just barely hear the sound of even breathing. He assumes it's the aforementioned brother as he lets Dean lead him through the dark.

He pulls Cas into his bedroom, flicking on a light near the bed. He mumbles something about "nothing fancy" before closing in on Cas' personal space. Their faces brush close, and he can feel the barest stubble from Dean's cheek brushing his own.

"You didn't call," Dean whispers, warm breath ghosting past Cas' ear. Cas swallows hard, his voice and any excuses dissolving in the warmth filtering through the thin cotton of Dean's shirt. His lips graze lightly over Cas' cheekbone. "I kept hoping I'd hear from you. There were, are, so many things I want to do to you." Cas chews at the inside of his lip, reveling in Dean's seduction.

"Like what?" Cas' voice comes out thin as he tries to keep it from shaking. A hand slides up his shirt and over his ribs causing him to tremble.

"I wanted to taste you again," Dean pulls back to look at Cas, "Your mouth," he leans forward, closing the space between them, his mouth instantly exploring Cas'. "Your skin," he tilts his head, working soft, slow kisses down the crook of Cas' neck, "Your cock," A hand grazes over Cas' hardened member. Cas inhales sharply, leaning his head back, "You taste like manna from heaven."

"Eloquent," Cas chokes out, unable to keep a blissful grin off his face.

"I went to Catholic school once," Dean retorts, both hands pushing Cas' twill jacket off of his shoulders.

"I am not at all surprised." Cas chuckles hoarsely. His jacket drops to the floor and he can feel large, callused palms bunching his t-shirt up over his abdomen. Cas relents as Dean pulls it over his head.

"Jesus, that uniform doesn't do you justice," Dean comments, fingers tracing the lines of Cas' abdomen.

"Pun intended," Cas quirks an eyebrow, causing Dean to chuckle in response. He presses closer into Cas, once again attacking his throat. Cas cranes his neck to the side, allowing more room for Dean's ministrations. He feels the soft touch of Dean sliding his hands down his arms before feeling a sudden tightness at his wrists followed by a 'click'. Cas jerks out of his bliss in an instant.

"What the hell?" His hands now clamped together securely behind his back, "Are these my cuffs?" He jerks his head quickly and catches Dean's toothy grin

"Yeah, I saw them in your bag when we were in the car," Dean admits, "Thought you might want a taste of your own medicine."

"This isn't cool, Dean," Cas hisses.

"No, but it's going to be hot," Dean says, manhandling Cas down onto the bed. He falls face up onto Dean's comforter. He can't decide if he is more turned on or annoyed by the sudden development. Dean maneuvers him so his head and shoulders are reclined against the headboard. He steps back and strips out of his shirt, revealing a surprisingly built torso, one small tattoo over the left pectoral. Cas hums in approval as Dean crawls his way onto the bed, straddling Cas.

"You can't keep me in my own cuffs," Cas states plainly as Dean's hands smooth up his sides.

"Oh, but I think I can." Dean lowers his mouth over Cas' nipple, sucking the soft flesh into a hardened nub. Cas inhales sharply as Dean rolls it between his teeth. He can feel the hard length of Deans cock pressing into his calf through two layers of denim, and Cas has to wonder if it is as impressive as it feels.

"What do you plan on doing to me, Dean?" Cas goads. Dean looks up from his efforts and smiles. He crawls further up Cas' body until they are nose to nose, cocky smirk never leaving his face.

"Anything I want to," Dean whispers. His lips ghost Castiel's and Cas can't help but chase after the kiss. "I am going to fuck you ragged. I want you to gag me on your cock like you did last time. I want to fuck you until the only thing you know is my dick and my name. when I'm done with you baby, you'll be feeling me for the rest of the week." Cas' mouth goes dry listening to Dean. He watches the younger man work his way back down his chest, soft pink tongue dragging down his skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

"God, Dean," Cas says at last, his brain having trouble processing both Dean's imagery and English.

"But first…" Dean mumbles, as his fingers undo the fly on Cas's jeans. He pulls them down slowly, his tongue and teeth following, brushing over a hip bone. Cas hasn't been in this position in years, unable to do anything but lay back and enjoy his partner's attention. He feels Dean's mouth over his cock as it strains against the fabric of his boxers. He wants to snap at Dean to quit teasing when the other man suddenly makes quick work of divesting him of the rest of his clothes. Fingers wrap around the base as Dean's tongue wraps over the head of his cock. He throbs beneath Dean's touch and can't help the small whine as Dean mouths over the vein on the underside of his member. Dean's hands spread his legs open wider as he moves lower down Cas' groin. The first swipe of Dean's tongue over his puckered hole has Cas crying out loudly.

"You've gotta keep it down," Dean chastises softly, "I love the noises you make, but you keep going like that, you're gonna wake the whole building." Cas mumbles an apology and bites his lip, attempting to stop a litany of groans. Dean's mouth circles over his hole, rough tongue dragging along the sensitive skin. Every lap has Cas squirming and writhing on the bed. Dean clamps his hands down on Cas' hips, pinning him down on the bed. Cas can't control the guttural moan the first moment Dean's tongue wriggles its way inside him. A large hand clamps over his mouth. He looks down to see Dean staring back up at him from between his legs.

"You _really _have to be quiet," Dean tries to be serious, although he can't hide the smug grin, "I don't want you to… really I don't, but you are a vocal motherfucker, y'know that?"

"Your fault," Cas sighs, a beatific look across his face. Dean huffs a laugh and plants a kiss on the inside of Cas's thigh. He crawls back over his body and lays a sweet kiss on Cas' lips. He reaches over into the drawer of the bedside table, fumbling for something.

"Dammit," Dean hisses, leaning over Cas and searching through the drawer.

"What's wrong?" Cas asks, craning his neck up.

"Condoms. I think I'm out," He says, scrubbing a hand over his face, "Bathroom! I have some there." Dean jumps off the bed. He points at Cas."You. Don't go anywhere. I'll be just a minute." He hurries out of the bedroom.


	3. Noise Complaint

Dean can't believe he forgot to restock his stash. Talk about a mood killer. He has a hot-as-fuck cop tied up in his room and here he is looking for rubbers. He stumbles down the darkened hallway to his and Sam's shared bathroom. He quietly opens the door and switches on the light, immediately opening the medicine cabinet above the sink. He's sure he has more somewhere. He knows he can get Cas off even if he can't fuck him (if the noises he made were any indication) but he is intent on making Cas come on his cock alone. Dean smiles at the thought as he begins digging through the cabinet under the sink.

He lets out a whoop, momentarily forgetting about his sleeping brother, as he finds a value size box of trojans. God bless Sammy and his Costco membership. Dean rips open the box and tears off a string of condoms. Turning the light off, he hurries back to the bedroom.

"Cas?" he calls out, noticing the bed is now empty, "Where-?" Something suddenly pulls his arms tightly behind him. He drops the condoms as a thumb presses into his forearm below the bend, the pressure just enough to be uncomfortable but not painful. He can feel breathing down his neck and something hard pressing against his backside.

"Did you really think I wouldn't be able to get out of my own cuffs?" Cas mutters, breath hot on Dean's skin. There is a click as Dean feels the tightening of cuffs on his wrists.

"What are you? Fucking Houdini?" Dean remarks. Cas laughs and pushes him face down onto the bed. Dean rolls onto his back so he can look at Cas.

"You really get off on this bondage shit, don't you?" Cas smiles as he straddles Dean's legs and begins to work on getting his pants off.

"What can I say? I like you in cuffs," Cas replies as he frees Dean's bouncing cock from its confines and drops the jeans to the floor. Cas tilts his head, giving Dean a heated stare.

"I want to fuck you, Dean. Is that ok?" he asks, receiving a confused look from Dean.

"Um… I'm kinda at your mercy here, Cas." Dean retorts. He can see Cas reach down and grab the strand of condoms off the ground.

"Well, consent is important," he says, Kneeling back onto the bed.

"Thank you, Officer Friendly," Dean admonishes. Cas grins wickedly as he crawls up Dean.

"I like it when you call me officer," He mumbles, lightly planting his lips on Dean's.

"Good Lord, you are a kinky bastard," Dean laughs, "I love it." Cas just hums as he kisses Dean again, his hands exploring Dean's naked body. His kisses quickly go from sweet and gentle to hungry as his tongue invades Dean's mouth. Cas grinds down onto him, causing Dean to arch up into the friction. He wishes he could run his hands through the thick of Cas' hair.

"Lube?" Cas blurts out suddenly.

"There." Dean says, nudging his head to his nightstand drawer. Cas leans over and grabs out the bottle.

"On your stomach," Cas doesn't wait for Dean before he is flipping him face down onto the mattress. Dean twists his face to the side so he can breathe. He hears the distinctive snick of the bottle of lube and the squirt as Cas coats his fingers. He shuffles onto his knees, ass in the air like a perfect present for Cas. Cas paws at the mound of Dean's ass, grabbing it playfully and mumbling a pleased "good boy".

Dean gasps as the first of Cas' fingers breaches his entrance. The lube is body warm and there is a distinctive burn as Cas works the digit into Dean's hole. Dean grits his teeth. It's been awhile since he'd bottomed, just long enough for it to feel alien to him. As Cas pushes in a second finger, Dean begins to adapt, the burn relaxing into pressure. Cas' finger stretch and scissor him open, alternately brushing his prostate and pulling a gasping whimper from Dean.

"Cas," Dean cries as Cas brushes past the spot, a little firmer this time, "Cas, please. I'm ready." Cas sees Dean's hands clench and unclench in pleasure while chained behind his back. He smoothes a palm over the swell of Dean's backside, tempted to give Dean a little swat.

"Not yet," Cas murmurs as he inserts a third finger, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dean groans loudly. The movement of Cas' hand becomes faster, deliberately brushing over his prostate with each swipe, causing Dean to loudly belt of a string of profanity each time. Dean turn his face into the mattress, attempting to muffle himself.

"Please," he sobs, the muscles in his back rippling with each spasm of pleasure, "Please fuck me. Please, Cas" He turns his face back out, wide eyes searching for Cas. He whines at the loss of Cas' fingers before he hears the sound of a condom wrapper being opened. He feels Cas lining himself up with Dean's hole. He presses in slowly, Dean keening madly in response.

Everything is still for a moment. Cas' hands grasp Dean's hips hard enough to bruise. Dean cranes his neck to see Cas behind him, eyes clenched tight.

"Gimme a sec," Cas breathes, voice tight, "Feels so good." His movements start slowly, languid thrusts as if he's testing Dean's waters. He wants to urge Cas to go faster, give him more. He pushes back hard onto Cas' cock which earns him a sharp smack across his ass.

"Ah, dammit!" Dean yelps.

"Shhh, you wouldn't want to wake your brother," Cas warns in a mocking tone. Dean grinds his teeth and shifts on the bed. He pulls at the cuffs, wishing he could be up on his hands and knees or at least facing Cas.

"Cas, you're killing me here," he whines, "Faster, harder, something more, please!" Cas chuckles at Dean's pleas. He grips Dean's thighs and pulls his legs out until Dean is lying completely flush with the bed. Cas pulls an arm across Dean's chest and turns him so they are spooned together on their sides. Dean leans his head back against Cas' shoulder as the older man begins to pick up speed.

"That's right, Cas. Fuck me hard, just like that," Dean encourages. He grips Dean's chin and turns his face toward his own.

"Keep talking." Cas orders before pulling Dean into a frenzied kiss.

"You like me cuffed and taking your cock up the ass, don't ya Officer?" Dean provokes, "Show me who's in charge, Cas." Cas practically growls as he gains momentum. Dean cries out with a broken moan with each stroke of Cas' cock inside of him. Cas anchors one hand on his hip as he reaches around and takes Dean in hand.

"Cas!" Dean cries as a warm palm works over his shaft. Cas matches his pace with that of his hand. Dean cranes his neck back, lips searching for Cas'. They kiss wantonly as Cas flicks his thumb over the head of his cock, gathering precome and stroking it down Dean's length.

Dean's vision blurs and he's suddenly coming, hot ropes of white coating his stomach and Cas' hand. He feels Cas following soon after with a few punishing thrusts.

They lay there for a long time. Cas leans his head against the back of Dean's, softly panting against the nape of his neck. Dean closes his eyes, listening to the pound of his heartbeat, Cas' breathing, the hum of the AC. He opens his eyes and looks toward the window, noticing the eerie light of dawn seeping into his bedroom.

"Wow," Cas mutters. Dean hums in the affirmative when there is a sudden banging on the bedroom door.

"Goddammit, Dean! Can you keep it the fuck down?" Sam yells from the opposite side of the door, "The entire building doesn't need to know when you're fucking." Sam's footsteps fade down the hallway. He can feel Cas's body shaking with quiet laughter.

"Hey Cas, can you get me out of these things?" Dean asks, his wrist protesting the strain of the restraints.

"Oh, yeah sure." Cas slips out of him and climbs off the bed. Dean can hear him fiddling with something before he crawls back on the bed and starts tooling with the is a click and the cuffs are off. Dean rubs his wrist and turns on his back, watching as Cas removes the condom and tosses it in the trash. Dean grabs a t-shirt off the floor and cleans himself up before throwing it toward Cas to do the same.

"How did you get out of the cuffs without a key?" Deans asks, reclining on the bed and shoving a pillow under his chin. Cas smiles and slips back onto the bed.

"Same way I opened yours." He holds up an unbent paper clip, "It was on your dresser." Dean takes it, examining it, before raising an eyebrow at Cas.

"Nice trick." He says, placing the clip on the bedside table, "You work fast." Cas nonchalantly shrugs.

"Some shifts are less entertaining than others. You find ways to pass the time." He crawls back on the bed and blankets himself over Dean's back. He lays his chin over Dean's shoulder. They like this in the quiet for a long time before Cas speaks again.

"Your brother sounded pissed."

"He'll get over it." Dean shrugs, "I pay his room and board. He can't complain too much."

"He's in college?" Cas inquires, pressing soft kisses into Dean's shoulder.

"High school." Dean states flatly.

"And he lives with you?" Dean nods, "Where are your folks?"

"Died a few years back," Dean says softly. Cas is quiet for a while.

"So you're his legal guardian, then?" He finally asks.

"Technically, Bruce Banner is his legal guardian" Dean replies, studying the back of Cas' hand

"Hence the ID?" Cas offers.

"One of the reasons." Dean rolls over onto his back and looks Cas in the eye. "I wouldn't have been able to take custody even after I turned 18," He turns his head and gives Cas a sober look, "Believe it or not, our first… interaction wasn't my first run-in with the law." Cas hums softly as he shifts off of Dean.

"You should probably get some sleep" he advises, sitting up on the bed, "You've been up all night"

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Dean teases.

"Yours," Cas states plainly. Dean watches the older man start to gather his things, grabbing the handcuffs off the bed.

"You don't have to go, y'know." Dean blurts out. He doesn't know if Cas is tired of Dean or if he has some other obligation he needs to get to, but he does know he doesn't want his time with Cas to end. "I mean, if you don't have anything else going on, you can stay. You look pretty beat yourself" Dean swallows hard. He looks at Cas, trying his hardest not to appear as vulnerable as he feels.

Cas stares at Dean for a moment before dropping his things and slipping back into bed. He pulls Dean into his chest, turning him until they are spooned together. Dean leans out and switches off the bedside lamp.

" 'Night, Cas" Dean says, pulling Cas' arms around him tight.

"It's not night," Cas corrects

"Whatever, man, just get some rest," They curl into each other, the noise of the early morning lulling them to sleep.


	4. Destroying Evidence

Castiel sighed as he scanned the squad room. It felt good being back in the station. It had been a long two months.

The morning following his night with Dean had been awkward. Cas had attempted to escape without Dean noticing but instead ran face-first into a lanky, shaggy-haired teenager who Cas assumed was the brother. The kid had given Cas a confused, sleepy glare and mumbled a "_hi". _ Cas gaped, trying to decide whether or not he should apologize for the graphic noise only a few hours prior or pretend it never happened. Dean came up from behind, gesturing between the two of them and muttering "_Cas, Sam. Sam, Cas."_

What followed had to be the most uncomfortable meal of Cas' life. He absently chewed his Cheerios as he and Dean kept exchanging looks with Sam that said "_Let's pretend you didn't hear us having rough, loud sex last night."_ Dean had sweetly kissed him goodbye, offering to call soon. Cas walked in a daze toward his squad car down the block, before he found himself giggling uncontrollably at the insanity that was earlier that morning.

Coming back to work was a sober return to the real world. The investigation regarding Cas' loss of a suspect was going to a review board. His lieutenant, Chuck, quietly broke the news to him while offering hopeful words that everything would work out. His encouragement soon evaporated, though, when Cas heard Adler was going to be on the board.

Cas had gone through the Academy with Zachariah Adler, a sallow-eyed, prematurely-balding sycophant who fashioned himself as Dirty Harry. He liked to brag that he was the 4th generation in the force and his grandfather was Chief of Police 40 years ago. He looked good on paper, but there was nothing backing it all up. While Cas had never been a star cadet, Zachariah had barely made it through, passing both the academic and physical requirements by the bare minimum. For some reason completely unknown to Cas, Zachariah _hated _him. It seemed like every time Cas looked at him, he received a sour sneer in return. Zachariah had tripped him during runs, used full-force during hand-to-hand and non-lethal weapons training, and took every opportunity to snort derisively at any answer Cas gave in their classes.

Somehow after graduation, Zachariah had managed to kiss-ass his way into a promotion, making Sergeant in record time and being recruited early on by the Internal Affairs Bureau. Cas could see why IAB liked Zachariah; he was a sneaky little shit.

And he was on Cas' review board.

The board had gone quickly, although it would have gone much quicker without Zachariah's needling. He had questioned Castiel on everything: his motives, his state of mind, practically what he had for breakfast. Zachariah was convinced that something underhanded had happened which had led to Dean's escape, which Cas thought was fair seeing as something underhanded _had _happened. Not that anyone knew, thankfully.

Cas had been been given two months suspension without pay and was going to be stuck on desk two months past that, but really it was a slap on the wrist. After the board rendered their decision, Zachariah had cornered Cas in the hallway pressing in on his personal space.

"You think you're real smart, don't you? Think you're going to come out of this squeaky clean, huh?" Adler gave Cas a humorless smile, "I'm going to tell you this once: I am going to find out what you're up to, I am going to find out who that guy was and I am going to. Fuck. You. Up." He punctuated each word with a stab of his index finger to Cas' chest. Cas held back any snide comments or smug looks, and schooled his features into a blank slate.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Cas sighed, "I put it all out there at the board."

"Bullshit. You never even gave us his name!" Adler spat.

"I never got his name. He had nothing but fake IDs on him," Cas was glad that he didn't have to lie about this. He wasn't sure how his eyes would read with Zachariah boring into them. "I gave you his description, I spoke to a sketch artist…"

"See, that's how I know this is fucking bullshit," Adler replied with a maniacal grin, pointing a finger at Cas, "That sketch doesn't even look like a human being. It looks like the Green Goblin." This was true. Cas had been careful to alter his description of Dean's features and the resulting sketch somehow ended up looking like Willem Dafoe.

"That's what he looked like, I'm sorry." Cas pushed past Adler, "Now excuse me, but I have had a shit day, thanks to you, and I need to get out of here." He could feel Adler's eyes burning into the back of his head, but not another word was spoken between them.

The two month suspension wasn't as bad as Cas thought it would be. He deep cleaned his apartment, went on a few long runs with Balthazar, binge-watched Netflix and generally kept his nose clean. He only heard from Dean twice during that time: once when he received a text talking about something called "LARPing" quickly followed by a _Sorry, wrong person_, then another text a few weeks later inviting Cas to see his friend's band at a bar in Lakeside. That night had begun with Cas being introduced to Dean's friend Garth, who apparently was the drummer, and had ended with him and Dean 69ing in the back of Dean's big, black boat of a car because neither had thought to bring a condom with them. Afterwards, they had cuddled up against each other, in spite of the heat of the evening or the sticky layer of come and sweat between them, and just talked about nothing with Cas getting a little giddy every time Dean laughed at one of his jokes. It seemed so strange that Dean could exhibit so much swagger when he was trying to seduce, but would immediately be reduced to such a raw state of self, post-orgasm. It was at those times that he felt he was seeing the real Dean.

Since that night though, it had been radio-silence on Dean's part.

Just as Cas checks the clock for the 20th time (only two more hours left), Balthazar walks through the door.

"Cassie," Bal crosses the short distance, planting his ass on the corner of his desk, "How are things?"

"Serving my punishment in style," Cas deadpans. Bal claps him on the shoulder and gives him a wan smile. He looks like he is about to say something, when a when a voice calls out over his shoulder.

"Novak," Cas turns to see Lt. Shurley beckoning him over. Cas stands, giving Balthazar a confused look.

"We need your assistance in booking." Chuck continues as Cas follows him down the hall "The rookie is kind of overwhelmed." They walk through a maze of corridors until they arrive at booking. Before they even reach the door, a cacophony of voices can be heard rising from the room. As they enter, Cas notices a harried-looking officer trying to ignore the shouting of random criminals as he fingerprints a man. Long rows of metal benches are bolted to the floor, a metal railing running just above them with about a dozen men and women secured to it. The room is even less distinguishable than the squad room: beige paint, beige chairs, beige floor. Cas suspects that someone thinks neutral colors will make criminals less violent or ill-tempered, but it seems to be having the opposite effect the current crop.  
Chuck places two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly, gaining everyone's attention and momentarily bringing the noise level down.

"Samandriel," Chuck barks, "This is Officer Novak. He's here to help. Just tell him what you need." Cas feels Chuck clap him on the shoulder but doesn't turn to watch him leave. Cas weaves through the crowd toward the counter. He jumps over the swing door faces the young officer.

"Hey there," The kid is cheerful but visibly stressed. He jerks his head toward the camera and wall where they take the mug shots. "If you want to take care of the pictures, I can handle the printing." Cas nods as Samandriel hands him the next suspect's ID.

"Thanks, uh… Samandriel, was it?" Cas asks. The rookie smiles and nods before turning his attention back to the suspect. Cas goes about uncuffing the first suspect, a man who clearly drank a liquor store, and hauls him toward the back wall.

"Turn to the left," Cas instructs, after semi-successfully propping him up. The man stares at Cas with glassy eyes for a few seconds before shifting to the left. He clicks the camera and directs the man to face forward, snapping his fingers a couple times to grab his attention. As he hands off the drunk to Samandriel for printing, Cas takes a brief glance around the room, hoping that the others are more cognizant than this one. Cas quickly approaches the next suspect and unlocks his restraints.

After photographing three prisoners, Cas suddenly remembers how much booking sucks. He had worked it for a couple weeks when he had first graduated from the academy and the memories of how time dragged still haunt him. It's painfully repetitive and forces you to be up close and personal with drunks, stoners, and just all around assholes.

"How long ago did you graduate, Samandriel," Cas asks wryly, knowing that only someone fresh would be this upbeat while stationed down here.

"From the Academy?" Samandriel replies, focusing his attention onto thumbprinting a prisoner, "About 2 months ago. Why?" Cas just shakes his head and laughs as he lays a hand on his next suspect's shoulder.

"Cas?" That voice. Cas looks down with wide-eyed horror. Right in front of him, hands strapped to the metal railing at the small of his back with bruises quickly forming under his left eye and up his cheek bone, sits Dean.

_Shit._

In any other circumstance he wouldn't mind seeing Dean, but he is in a precarious situation here. He's still in the early part of his career and he's already got a hit against him. The only reason his reprimand was as light as it was was due to the fact that Chuck vouched for him, saying he's a good cop with a bright future. If anyone were to suspect anything improper, he's looking at an even deeper scrutiny and more harassment by Adler. Cas quickly adjusts his expression, setting his jaw in a hard line.

"C'mon." He says as he removes Dean from the bench. Dean goes willingly, his body lax and loose.

"How you doing, Cas?" Dean has that trademark flirtatious smile as Cas backs him up against the wall.

"Turn you your left." he mutters. Dean's face falls but his eyes don't leave Cas.

"What's the matter? Not talking to me?" Dean inquires. Cas snaps the picture and directs Dean to face front. "Want me to do 'Blue Steel'?" Dean pouts out his lips and squints his eyes toward the camera. The corner of Cas' mouth just barely quirks up when there is a cough behind him. He turns to see Samandriel walking a surly looking biker at least 6 inches taller than himself in cuffs.

"Tiny here says he needs the bathroom. You got this for a little while?" Cas nods and watches Samandriel guide the man out the doorway. Cas turns back to Dean, grasping his shoulder and maneuvering him toward the fingerprinting area.

"Got me in cuffs again, huh Cas?" Dean says softly as he undoes the restraints. As soon as he is free, Dean covers the back of Castiel's hand with his, fingers loosely intertwining. Cas quickly shakes his hand free and grabs grabs hold of Dean's wrist to start the printing.

"Sorry I haven't called recently. Guess that makes me kind of an asshole huh," There's a playfulness to Dean's voice and it makes Cas want to reach out and draw Dean's lips to his own. He takes hold of Dean's thumb and rolls it over the ink pad.

"Forgive me, right?" Dean asks petulantly; Cas doesn't respond. He focuses on his work as Dean huffs angrily. "Are you going to keep giving me the silent treatment?"

"I'm just trying to do my job," Cas says as he rolls Dean's thumb over the card.

"So you can't say hi?" Cas lifts his head and looks at him. Even with a rainbow of bruises covering the left side of his face, Dean is still handsome. Maybe even more so.

"Hello Dean." He quickly returns to his work, pressing each finger onto the card. Dean's hands are rough and strong, and he can't help himself from being a little more delicate than usual. As he presses down the three middle fingers onto the card, Dean's other hand once again comes to rest on top of his own. He jerks his head, Dean's face just inches from his own.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Cas' voice is barely above a whisper.

"Nothing," Dean says with mock-innocence. Castiel begins printing his other hand. He can feel Dean's eyes boring into him. "Can you do anything to get me out of this?"

"Nothing I can do," Cas mutters, focusing on inking Dean's index finger. Dean huffs indignantly.

"C'mon, man," he whines softly. Cas doesn't respond, still pressing Dean's hand down onto the card. Dean snorts derisively. "I thought fucking a cop had better benefits."

Cas' head shoots up instantly and he drops Dean's hand. A sharp stab of anger and dejection blooms inside his chest. He looks Dean dead in the eye, his face momentarily broken in pain before shifting itself back to a blank slate.

"So that's how it is," Cas says coolly. He grabs Dean's hand forcefully, and continues to print him.

"Oh c'mon, Cas, I didn't mean it like that," Dean gripes, "Cas!" Cas isn't listening. As he's re-cuffing him, Samandriel returns and hooks Tiny back into the restraints, followed by a second officer, a detective by the look of him.

"Winchester, Dean" the Detective barks.

"Yo," Dean says. The detective crosses the room toward Dean and yanks him by the shoulder.

"This way," he orders as he drags Dean out of the room. Dean's gaze never leave Cas'. There is a mixture of frustration and remorse in his eyes. Cas exhales sharply and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Hey Samandriel, do you mind if I grab a smoke?" he asks.

"Sure thing," the younger cops responds as he grabs a bored-looking woman. Cas walks out the door and down the hall. He doesn't smoke, but right now he needs fresh air and a clear head. He shoves the back door open and steps out onto the deck. He wraps his hands around the metal railing surrounding the platform and lets his head drop forward. It's a warm fall night, but a cold chill runs over his skin. A potent mixture of mortification, anger, and rejection roils in his gut. He wants to kick himself for being stupid enough to get involved with someone like Dean Winchester (_Winchester?… like that doesn't sound like another alias_). It was clear from the start what Dean wanted, and it was Cas who had believed it could've been something deeper. He had put his whole goddamn career on the line for one fucking blow job. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. Why did he let himself get so caught up in a meaningless fuck?

He clenches his jaw in an effort not to scream. He should have listened to Balthazar. He should've listened to the reasonable side of his brain. He should've listened to anyone besides his dick. He takes a couple more deep breaths before turning back into the building. Cas is so distracted he doesn't notice Zachariah Adler coming his way until he barrels into him.

"Watch where you're going, Novak!" Zachariah blusters.

"Sorry," Cas says absently, before looking up at Adler, brows furrowed. "What are you doing down here?" Zachariah's presence was usually a harbinger of doom. Whatever his reasons for being here, they surely weren't good.

"Oh, just following up on a few open investigations. And, of course, I have to check up on our problem children." he glares pointedly as Cas, "Say, you wouldn't happen to know a Dean Winchester, would you?" Cas swears his heart stops for a moment before it instantly starts beating faster but his face remains placid.

"There was a guy in booking with that name a little while ago," Cas says non-committedly. Zachariah hums and gives him a tight smile.

"No, I mean are you actually familiar with him? Have you ever met him outside of this evening?" Castiel can't tell why, but something about Adler's questioning, his smugness, causes a swell of nausea to rise in his gut.

"Can't say I have, no" Cas answers, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. They hold each other's gaze for a moment. Adler is nearly unreadable as he hums and gives Cas a diplomatic smile.

"Hmmm, alright then," Adler says. He starts to walk in the opposite direction when he stops and turns back toward Cas.

"Funny thing, though," Adler reaches into his inside coat pocket and extracts something, "He had this in his wallet." In his hand, Zachariah holds Castiel's business card.

Cas feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He is frozen where he stands. Zachariah looks triumphant at his find.

"Winchester wouldn't happen to be your little escapee, would he?" He leans in close to Cas' ear and whispers harshly, "I have your ass now, Novak." Zachariah pulls himself up to his full height, towering over Castiel although there is only a mere inch difference between them. He gives Cas a final smirk before turning and walking off leaving Castiel alone. Cas watches him turn the corner before he stumbles back hitting the wall behind him. He scrubs a hand over his face, his mind running a mile a minute. He walks quickly over to the nearest garbage can, vomiting up dinner. Cas leans over the mess, his head resting on his palm. His day just went from bad to worse.


	5. Public Indecency

Cas returns to the booking room in a daze, barely cognizant of anything being said to him until Samandriel grabs him by the shoulder and shakes him roughly.

"I'm sorry," Cas mumbles, "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were ok, man. You look like you've seen a ghost." Samandriel says. Cas shakes his head.

"I just don't feel very well right now." Cas replies, trying to muster up the closest thing to a smile he can manage. Samandriel gives him a doubtful frown, like he doesn't really believe Cas.

"You should see if Lt. Shurley will let you get out of here," He says, "My relief will be here in 30 and I think I can handle this until then." The room is quiet. There are a few suspects waiting to be collected, but for the most part, the overnight rush has passed. Cas nods and heads for the door, mumbling a 'thanks' to Samandriel on his way out.

This may be his last time walking through these halls, Cas thinks. He tries to muster up some sort of sentimentality toward this place as he shuffles down toward the main squad room, but it escapes him. His whole body feels numb, but there is a vague feeling just beneath the surface. He wants to say it's fear, but his mind passed over fear awhile ago. He feels shell-shocked.

He enters the squad room, eyes searching for Chuck. As soon his lieutenant sees him, his expression changes to one of concern. He walks up to Chuck and quietly says something about "coming down with something". His lieutenant lightly pats him on the arms and tells him to go.

"Don't spread that shit around here," Chuck orders. Cas nods and turns, heading toward the exit. As he passes by Balthazar, the blonde's hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist.

"Cassie, what's going on? You look awful?" If Cas was in better spirits, he would be more appreciative of his friends concern, but now he jerks his arm out of Balthazar's hold.

"Not feeling good. I'm heading home." Cas doesn't meet his gaze. Balthazar leans back, eyeing him warily, when a shout from the hallway distracts him.

"Jesus Christ, haven't you guys ever heard of 'excessive force!'" Dean comes into view, stomping past the window of the squad room and down the hall. "Going to fuckin' bruise!" He rubs his wrists as he heads out the door. Cas wants to feel a swell of anger toward Dean right now, but he can't bring himself to it. The memory of the night he spent with Dean curled into his arms invades his thoughts, his expression softening in response. His eyes never leave Dean as the man exits the building and, with it, Castiel's life. It's a look Balthazar doesn't miss.

"Castiel, what are you… Who is that person?" Balthazar says with piqued curiosity, "Is that him? Is that the one who..?"

"I gotta go." Cas cuts him off, making his way toward the locker room. Balthazar calls after him but doesn't follow, much to Cas' relief. The locker room is crowded, but thankfully the showers are empty and right now that is what Cas needs.

He lets the hot spray pour over him, coursing down over the planes of his body. His mind begins to clear from the daze he was in as the reality of the situation makes itself plain.

His career is dead in the water. He'll be lucky to be working as a traffic cop if he doesn't get charged with obstruction. The thought of this hits him like a punch in the gut. Since he was 16, all he wanted to do was be a cop. His whole life was spent keeping his nose clean, staying away from all the normal vices that kids his age got involved in. He had read manual after manual, absorbing laws and violations, hoping that it would be enough.

And it wasn't. In the end, as it always was, it was human error that fucked everything up. His error, he had to at least take responsibility there. This was all his fucking fault; everything that had happened had started with him. Maybe it would be alright? Maybe if he just fessed up and talked to his union rep, showed some remorse, said that he was a sex addict, he could at least get out of this without jail time. Cas leaned his head back, letting the water run over his face and back and snorted at the the thought. No, he had Zachariah on his ass. He was well and truly fucked.

By the time he exits the showers, the locker room is mostly empty. Cas hurriedly pulls on his jeans and a t-shirt, shoving his uniform haphazardly into a backpack. He pulls on his canvas jacket and pushes his way out of the locker room. He hopes he can avoid Balthazar and any further questions as he heads out of the building, exiting into the pleasant coolness of the night.

"Cas," there is a hiss behind him, "Hey, Cas." Cas turns to see Dean, shoulders slumped, hands stuffed in his pockets. The bruises from earlier have darkened, looking more tender and painful. Cas wants to reach out and lightly touch them, but his anger with Dean rears itself once again.

"What do you want, Dean?" his voice sounds far more tired than irritated as he had hoped.

"I'm sorry," Dean says quietly after a beat. He takes a step toward Cas and looks him in the eye. His face is contrite, the usual playful smirk absent.

"Good," Cas snaps. He turns and continues walking down the street, hoping to escape Dean before his resolve crumbles.

"Cas, Hey!" There is a patter of footsteps as Dean jogs after him, "C'mon. I said I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said."

"Yes, you did!" Cas barks without turning around.

"No, I didn't," Dean huffs, reaching out and grabbing Cas' hand by the wrist. Cas jolts to a stop and wheels around to face Dean, nostrils flaring.

"I really am sorry." Dean insists, " I was an asshole, ok?" He looks down, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Cas pulls his arm out of Dean's grip. He wants to be angry with Dean, _stay _angry with him, but right now all he can think about is Dean laid out on the bed, squirming through his release. He just needs to see that one more time.

"That was a really shitty thing you said," Cas states finally.

"Yeah, and I feel really shitty because if it," Dean counters, stepping close and lightly taking Cas' hand in his. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" He gazes up at Cas with twinkling eyes and that coy little smirk, and suddenly it's like all the breath has been zapped from Cas' body. His eyes are concentrated on Dean and he threads their hands together.

"You have your car with you?" Cas finally asks. Dean shakes his head."C'mon," he says, pulling Dean down the street.

"Whoa, where are we going? It's like three in the morning."

"To the train."

"Where's your car?" Dean asks, searching around.

"They took it away from me when I got suspended. I'm on a desk for awhile." Cas answers, not looking at Dean.

"You got suspended? Why?" Dean demands. Cas stops and turns, looking straight at him. "Because of me?" Dean points to himself. Cas just gives him a curt smile and nod.

"Oh," Dean says sheepishly, "Well, I'm sorry about that too, then."

"You're not," Cas says as he continues to pull Dean by the hand, "But you're still going to make it up to me." He throws a wink over his shoulder, causing Dean to huff a surprised laugh.

They walk a few blocks, Dean's hand tightly clasped in Cas', not saying a word. Cas pulls him up the stairs to an "L" station, He feeds his card into the turnstile and passes it to Dean to do the same. They wait on the platform, listening for the train to arrive.

"So tell me something," Cas says, breaking the silence, "How were you able to post bail so fast?" He tilts his head and looks at Dean.

"Didn't need to," Dean says, "I didn't do anything wrong," Cas opens his mouth as if to contradict him, when Dean continues.

"I got caught in the middle of a fight outside a club. Didn't start it, wasn't a part of it, but one the assholes who was tried to take a swing at a friend of mine and…I had to defend her, right?" Dean shrugs absently.  
"How noble," Cas says with mock awe.

"Cops arrested nearly everyone there." Dean continues, rubbing his wrists absently, "Those guys have no idea how to put on cuffs, though." The train pulls up in front of them. They walk onto the nearly empty car, standing toward the back.

"So how'd you get released?" Cas asks.

"The owner ID'd the guys who were really involved." Dean smiled at this, "Ellen's cool. She knows me, vouched for me and shit." Cas just nods, not saying anything. At the second stop, Cas once again pulls Dean off the train, onto the platform and down the stairs. They descend into the subway and make their way to the next platform where the train is waiting. The car is completely empty, just like Cas knew it would be.

"Are we going back to your place," Dean seems confused. Cas smiles and closes in on him, pressing their lips together softly.

"We're taking the long way," Cas' voice is low. He once again captures Dean's lips in a hungry kiss. Dean responds fervently, hands coming up and sliding around Cas' waist. Cas presses Dean back until he hits the walls with a thud.

"Sorry" he mumbles, barely breaking away from the kiss. He plants his hands on either side of Dean's head, closing him in, as he begins to mouth down Dean's jaw. Dean cranes his neck, allowing more room for Cas. His hands tighten over the dark-haired man's waist and he tries to push him away.

"Cas," he whimpers, "We can't do this here. There are cameras."

"No, there aren't," Cas replies, right before sucking a mark onto the soft flesh of Dean's neck.

"There aren't?" Dean says.

"Nope," Cas says, lifting his head and looking at Dean, "Believe me, I know exactly which lines have cameras and which don't" Cas licks his lips, Dean's eyes following the movement of his tongue. "And we are going to take full advantage of that, Dean." Cas' fingers are already unbuttoning Dean's jeans when he suddenly grabs Cas' wrists.

"Cas, we can't… we can't do that here." Dean stutters. Cas presses his thigh in between Dean's legs, feeling the hardening length beneath the fabric of his jeans. He rubs into it, causing Dean to gasp softly.

"I think we can." Cas mumbles into Dean's ear before lightly grasping the lobe between his teeth, "And you said that you'd 'make it up to me.'" Cas kisses around Dean's jaw, enjoying to sweet sighs and whimpers he receives in response. He latches onto the soft skin of Dean's pulse point, sucking lightly. Dean's whimpers Cas' name and his hands loosen, freeing Cas' wrists.

He continues to undo Dean's pants. He tugs them down just enough, Dean's cock bouncing lightly as it is freed. Dean inhales sharply as Cas wraps his fist around his cock. Cas presses his forehead against Dean's, letting his rhythm builds over Dean's member. Dean's head falls back against the window of the train. He's tense, fearful, Cas can tell.

"Relax, Dean," He reassures, a hand coming up and sliding through the back of Dean's hair, "Trust me?" Dean gives a quick nod in response. Cas pulls his head forward, kissing him hard. The vibration of a moan travels from Dean's mouth into his own. Cas pulls back and lowers himself into the empty seat immediately to his right. He maneuvers Dean until he is facing him, the younger man abruptly opening his eyes and watching Cas.

"What'cha doing there?" Dean whispers. Cas just stares up at him with large, blue eyes and as he begins tentatively mouthing Dean's cock. Dean curses above him and there are warm hands immediately running through Cas' hair. Cas wraps his lips over the head, his tongue lapping circles over the slit. Dean moans softly in response. Cas hollows his cheeks, sucking Dean down and slowly working him as far down his throat and his gag reflex will allow. He pulls up, tongue wrapping around the smooth skin of Dean's cock before swooping back down. The deeper he goes, the harder Dean grips onto his scalp, until he needs to pull off or else choke. Dean is whimpering above him, mumbling encouraging words. Cas runs the head of Dean's cock over the roof of his mouth, causing a guttural noise to be released from the other man. He looks up at Dean, taking pride in the evident ecstasy on his face. His chest rises and falls steadily as his fingers pet affectionately through the thick of Cas' hair.

He pulls off with a 'pop'. Dean is immediately shaken from his pleasure as Cas stands and takes his mouth once more in a hungry kiss.

"Why'd you stop?" Dean asks when Cas draws back. He just smiles as he runs his hands over the side of Dean's hips and over the globes of Dean's ass, giving them a playful squeeze. He moves his hands further, teasing the crease of Dean's ass and causing a shiver to visibly run through him.

"I want to fuck you," Cas finally whispers, mouth hovering over Dean's, "Right here." Dean gapes, eyes wide. Cas can see the indecision bubbling right beneath the surface.

"Cas, we… Can't we wait until we get to your place," Dean says as Cas' lips once again attach themselves to the flesh of his neck. His eyes dart around the dark and empty car.

"I thought you liked a bit of exhibitionism?" Cas whispers into Dean's skin. Dean tenses beneath him, but his hands move under Cas' shirt over the skin of Cas' back.

"This is even a little public for me Cas," Dean admits. Cas lifts his head and considers Dean, his mouth quirking at the corner.

"What if I let you fuck me?" Cas says quietly. Dean's hands go still. Cas lets a small smile spread across his face. He had thought about this a couple weeks ago, what it would be like to have Dean fuck him, just like he had promised. Dean doesn't say anything, but his nostrils flare in response and his brows pull together tightly. Cas leans forward and lets his lips lightly brush over Dean, his tongue darting out over the edge of Dean's upper lip.

Instantly, Dean's responds with a frantic kiss. He pulls Cas in close, his erection pressing hard between their stomachs. Cas moans softly causing Dean to inhale sharply and grip him tighter. His hands move quickly to the fly of Cas' jeans, fiddling with the buttons.

"You serious?" Dean finally says when they pull apart. Cas nods lazily as Dean's hands slide down the back of his pants and over his ass. Dean noses a the column of Cas' neck, murmuring something intelligible. Cas wants to ask him what he's saying, until he feels teeth sink into the soft flesh at the joint of his neck and his mind is instantly clear.

Dean suddenly removes his hands from Cas' backside and pulls back, searching through his coat pockets, pulling a condom and a small bottle of lube out. Cas lifts a curious eyebrow, to which Dean shrugs.

"After last time, I thought it better to always be prepared, y'know," Dean looks slightly flustered, but Cas just smiles and kisses Dean sweetly.

"How do you want me, Dean?" Cas' voice is a low growl. Dean hooks his thumbs into the back of Cas' pants and slides them down just enough. He leans in close.

"Turn around," he whispers into Cas' ear. Cas does as he's told. turning and facing the window. The train is out of the underground tunnels and and back on the elevated tracks. The city flashes by in a haze of scattered lights. Dean presses kisses down his neck as he smooths a hand over Cas' ass. There is a 'click' of the lube bottle and moments later Cas feels a cool, slick finger at his entrance.

He hisses as Dean breeches him, his thick finger sliding in slowly. Dean presses a reassuring kiss just below Cas' ear. His hand slides back before moving his finger into Cas again, deeper this time. His pace is steady but there is a nervousness to Dean's movements, like he's still unsure whether they will be caught or not. They very well could be and the thought of that sends a jolt of arousal through Cas's groin. he lets his head drop back, pressing his temple against Dean's.

Dean slides in a second digit, eliciting a breathy gasp from Cas. He crooks his fingers with each intrusion. When he brushes against Cas' prostate, his entire body jerks and a broken moan rises from deep within him.

"Dean," Cas breathes, as a third finger is added. Dean nuzzles along the line of Cas' jaw.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean murmurs, scissoring and stretching Cas open. He presses back onto Dean's fingers, eager for more, his own cock still somewhat restrained within the fabric of his jeans.

"Please," Cas begs as Dean nibbles over the nape of his neck, "Fuck me." Dean nods and removes his fingers; Cas whines in response. There is the tell-tale click of the lube bottle and the crackle of the condom wrapper. The window in front of them is fogged save for the prints of Cas' hands against the glass. He lazily draws a smiley face onto the pane before smearing it away with his palm.

All at once, he feels the blunt head of Dean's cock against him. He groans as Dean presses into him, slowly and perhaps a little hesitant. Cas pushes back against Dean's hips, hoping to encourage his movements.

"Give me a second, Cas," Dean huffs with a breathy laugh, "You feel so...Fuck, so good." Dean plants a wet kiss on the side of Cas' neck, sucking a mark hard into the skin. Dean hands clench hard on Cas' hips as he begins to rock into him.

"Fuck yeah," is all Dean can say and he picks up speed, thrusting into him. Cas' hand flies behind him, flailing to grab onto Dean, any part of Dean, before gripping onto Dean's forearm. A harsh moan is forced from him with every slam into his body. A hand moves off of Cas' hip and up around his naval, pulling him in tighter into Dean.

"That's it, Dean. Fuck me hard." Cas gasps. Dean's hand runs through Cas hair, grabbing a handful and pulling his head back.

"You don't get to be in charge," Dean grits through his teeth, "Not today." Dean slams into Cas, causing the other man to release a guttural cry.

Cas knows he should be worried about them being caught. They won't have long until the the early stream of commuters descends on the train. Yet, Cas is far beyond caring as Dean's rough hand reaches down and grasps his throbbing cock. It only takes Dean a handful of strokes over his member until Cas is spilling out and over his fist. Cas feels Dean frantically driving into him before seizing and tensing behind him, nails digging into Cas' stomach.

Both men are out of breath, but they have no time to enjoy the afterglow. Dean pulls out quickly, pulling up his jeans and tucking himself back inside, not even bothering to take the condom off. Cas redoes his pants and collapses on shaky legs into one of the seat. Dean falls into the seat next to him. Cas lazily watches him wipe his come-covered hand into the underside of his shirt. Dean looks up, catching Cas' eye, with a slow smile. A laugh bubbles up through Dean's chest, and Cas can't help responding with his own hoarse chuckle. The two men cackle manically until they find their lips and tongues twisted together in a passionate kiss. Cas' hands slide through Dean's hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. Dean's arms slide beneath Cas' jacket and pull him tight into the embrace.

Neither Dean or Cas know how long they stay like that, mouths locked together, garnering dirty looks from the passengers slowly filling into the car. Dean pulls away from the kiss, mouth open as if he is about to speak. He seems to hesitate at the words.

"What?" Cas asks quietly, brushing gentle fingers over the bruise across Dean's cheekbone. Dean shakes his head.

"Nothing," he mumbles, and dives back into the kiss as the light of the morning drifts into the train car.


	6. Conduct Unbecoming

**_Don't you hate it when an author apologizes at the beginning of a chapter and you just know shit is about to hit the fan? Yeah, me too._**

"So he just looked through my wallet?" Dean turns his whole body and props his head up on his fist, "Is that even legal?" They are lying side-by-side in Cas' bed, sheets and blankets, bunched up around them. Not long after leaving the train, they had fumbled their way to Cas' apartment, Dean unable to keep his hand (or his mouth) off of Cas for more than a few seconds. As soon as they'd gotten inside, Cas had once again latched onto Dean, roughly tugging the other man's clothes off. Within minutes they were tightly packed into Cas' shower, bodies pressed together and tongues exploring each other's mouths. Dean's whole body shook as Cas opened him up with slick fingers, his knees barely holding him as the cop seemed to take him apart. Cas fucked Dean with his face and chest pressed against the shower wall, hot water coursing down his back and drowning out Cas' grunts and moans as he chased his orgasm.

Afterward, they had collapsed on Cas' bed, still shower warm. Cas fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Dean watched him sleep, admiring the way the blade of early morning sunlight escaping through the blackout drapes highlighted his features. Even in the peacefulness of sleep, the furrow of worry never left Cas' brow. Dean wanted to trace his fingers over it and rub the stress away. He slipped his hand beneath Cas' pillow, finding his hand and entwining their fingers, before drifting off.

After they had both woken up, the bedside clock reading 3 pm, it hadn't taken very much coaxing for Cas to admit his mood had little to do with Dean.

"No, it's within his right," Cas sighs, running a hand through his bedhead. "You were under arrest. and he's a senior officer." He pushes himself up and leans against the headboard, a sad smile teasing his lips. Dean takes Cas' hand, running a thumb lightly over the knuckles in an attempt to comfort. He doesn't know what to say. This is all his fault. Cas says he doesn't blame him, but Dean knows that if he hadn't kept Cas' card, this Zachariah asshole wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Dean doesn't know why he even bothered to keep the card at all; Cas was already programmed in his phone under "Officer Friendly". Maybe he was just sentimental about it.

"I'm sorry I kept the card," Dean blurts out and gazes up at him. Cas reaches out, running a hand through the soft tuft of Dean's hair and rubbing a thumb along his temple. He leans down and gently kisses Dean, lightly chapped lips opening just enough to run a tongue along Dean's bottom lip.

"It's my fault." Cas says as he pulls away, his frown quickly returning, "It's all my damn fault. It's a rookie move. More than that, lying to the board, the sketch artist, everyone, was really stupid." He scrubs a hand over his face. Dean frowns and considers Castiel.

"You regret it." It's a statement, not a question.

"Lying?" Cas looks at Dean, his wide blue eyes already ringed from sleeplessness, "Yeah, of course I do."

"No, I mean me… us." Dean looks down, occupying himself with his nails. He doesn't want Cas to see the fear in his eyes that Cas might regret getting involved with Dean, nor the hope that he doesn't. Cas tips Dean's chin up.

"Not at all, Dean," Cas smiles and, for the first time today, it actually reaches his eyes. Dean rolls onto his back, reaching out and pulling Cas on top of him. He threads his arms around Cas' neck and pulls the other man into a deep kiss. Cas moans into Dean's mouth as his tongue slips in, sliding along the edge of Cas' teeth. Dean inhales sharply and pulls him in tighter. The scent of Cas is intoxicating; like cinnamon gum and old spice aftershave. Cas grinds down onto Dean, eliciting a groan from the other man. Cas' hands grip tight onto Dean's waist as he flips them over. His hands immediately slide from Dean's waist and underneath the sheet, the only thing covering Dean's bare ass. His grabs a firm fistful of Dean's backside, a slight growl rising from his throat.

"It should be illegal," Cas gasps for air as he pulls away from Dean's mouth, "to have an ass this perfect." He digs his fingers into the freckled flesh causing Dean to yelp.

"I mean, seriously, it's like it was carved from marble," he runs a comforting hand over the indents of his fingernails, "I just want to bite it!" Dean laughs out loud at that.

"Well, shit, Cas. If you want to eat my ass, all you have to do is ask." Dean chuckles. Cas refocuses his gaze on Dean; his blue eyes are dark and a wry smile plays on his lips. He attacks Dean in a hungry kiss, rolling them over so that he is once again on top.

"What I want," Cas' grin is almost wolfish, "Is to fuck you so hard into this mattress, you leave permanent indents." His hands slide over the globes of Dean's ass toward the center. A long finger teases at his hole, earning a surprised gasp from Dean.

"Do you want that, Dean?" a digit continues the circle the puckered skin, just barely pressing in. Dean bites back a whimper, pressing back toward Cas' hand. "You've gotta answer me. I need to hear it."

"Fuck, please Cas, yes," Dean finally sputters out. Cas captures his mouth in a heated kiss before rolling Dean off of him. Cas crawls over the bed, reaching for the nightstand, and grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom. The tangled up sheet pulls tight over Cas' body, perfectly outlining his firm ass. Dean can't help staring.

Cas crawls back toward Dean. He runs a soft hand through his hair and plants a trail of warm kisses along his jawline.

"Turn over," Cas whispers into his ear. Dean shivers at the feeling of the other man's warm breath against his skin, but turns over as ordered. Cas hovers over his back and settles between Dean's thighs, spreading them slightly. Dean huffs at the first touch of a slick finger. He's still stretched from their earlier activities, but Cas takes his time nonetheless. Dean writhes and squirms as Cas works two fingers in.

"That's it, Dean," Cas encourages. Dean arches up, shoulders tensing, with every brush over his prostate. Cas mouths over Dean's shoulder, warm tongue laving over his skin. Dean can feel the hot weight of Cas' cock against his thigh.

"Please, Cas, I'm begging…" Dean cries

"Yes, you are." Cas removes his hand and repositions himself between his legs. Cas fulfills on his promise, fucking into Dean deeply. His pace is steady and not nearly as quick as Dean wants it. He bucks back, causing the other man to groan and earning himself a sharp slap on the ass.

"Not yet," Cas pants. He falls over Dean, caging him with his arms and picking up speed gradually. Dean turns his head from being pressed into the pillow. Cas leans over him, sucking marks down his spine.

"So fucking good, Dean," Cas moans. His speed becomes erratic. Dean's teeth dig into his lip, only small whimpers escaping.

"No," Cas says, "I want to hear you."

"Fuck, Cas," Dean shouts, "Love it, Love it so much." Even in this state, Dean is thankful that he's been able to keep control of what he says. Cas grips Dean hips and suddenly pulls him to his knees. He wraps a hand around Dean's neglected member and works him over as his own thrusts reach a frantic pace. Only a few strokes of Cas' hand has Dean seeing stars and coming across his stomach and Cas' bed. Cas stills with a groan, his limbs twitching just barely, as he rides out his orgasm. He collapses on top of Dean with a sigh.  
"Jesus," Cas mutters. He places a soft kiss on Dean's cheek as he pulls out and rolls onto his back. Dean twists and props himself up on his elbows. He watches as Cas sits up to remove the condom. Even doing something so mundane, Dean can't help the surge of warmth he feels radiating from his center. Maybe it's not love, it's much too soon to be love, but he can't explain away this feeling. Just seeing Cas makes him feel lighter somehow, like his heart is filled with helium and he just barely has a grip on the string. A funny little smile crosses his face.

Cas lays back on the bed and looks at him. He casually reaches for Dean's fingers.

"I can smell smoke," He says.

"What?" Dean responds, shaken from his thoughts. Cas taps a finger to his own temple.

"You look like you're thinking pretty hard," He clarifies. "What's on your mind?" Dean scoots over and curls into Cas' shoulder.

"Are you going to be in a lot of trouble?" Dean asks, avoiding what he's really thinking.

"Most likely," Cas replies.

"How much?" Dean continues, staring at the ceiling.

"Well, if I'm very lucky, I'll be demoted. Slightly less lucky, I'll be kicked off the force." Cas' tone is neutral, as if he's reading back from one of his manuals, "Worst case is jail time." Dean sits up slowly and stares at Cas in disbelief.

"Shit," he mutters, "They don't fuck around, do they?"

"No, they do not," Cas says sadly. A moment of tense silence passes between them. Dean's heart twists in pain for Cas.

"What if you quit?" Dean blurts out.

"What?' Cas turns to Dean, confused.

"I mean, like, what if you quit. Resigned or something."

"And do what, then?"

"I don't know. Anything I guess." Cas looks at him doubtfully. Dean just grins and leans up to place a warm kiss on his lips

"We could go to Key West," Dean offers.

"Could we?" Cas says ruefully.

"Yeah, why not?" Dean wiggles around propping himself up on his elbows, "We could get out of here before winter hits, take my car, hell, I'd even bring Sam along. I'm sure they have schools there, right?" Cas lets out an amused snort.

"What would I do? Couldn't be a cop" Cas questions. Dean shrugs.

"Anything you want, man. What did you want to be when you were growing up?"

"I wanted to be a cop since I was a teenager, Dean."

"Well, Before that" Dean holds back an eyeroll.

"A Power Ranger," Cas deadpans. Dean can't control the bark of laughter that rises through him. Cas smacks his shoulder playfully.

"No, no, it's cute, really," Dean reassures as Cas smirks at him, "You could do anything you want, though. What are you good at?"

"Um, making English muffin pizzas," Cas offers with a shrug.

"See, you could teach people how to make… really sad bachelor food." Dean stifles another giggle at Cas' adorableness.

"What about you?" Cas says absently, trailing a finger lightly over the freckles on Dean's shoulder.

"For work?" Dean asks. Cas nods

"Yeah" Cas replies, "What do you do anyway?" Dean's faces scrunches at the question.

"I didn't already tell you?" Cas shakes his head, "Porn. I do porn." Cas' eyes widen instantly and Dean can't control a fit of laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Dean gasps hysterically, "I work at a collision center. I fix cars. But I had you going there for a minute, didn't I?"

"It wasn't entirely unbelievable," Cas counters moving in closer, his lips within inches of Dean's, "You are impossibly attractive." Their lips meet. Dean inhales sharply as Cas deepens the kiss. His tongue moves past Dean's lips and slides along the roof of his mouth. He tastes of salt and sleep and Dean can't seem to get enough of it.

"You're one to talk," Dean says when they finally break away. Cas just shakes his head and pulls Dean into his arms, quieting him by locking their mouths together once more.

* * *

Castiel stares at the computer screen in front of him, the words instantly turning to gibberish. He presses the heel of his hand into his eyes. He is anxious and nervous and completely worn out from lack of sleep. His stomach seems to be forming ulcers on his ulcers.

It has been three weeks since Adler had confronted Cas about the card and so far there had been radio silence from the Chain of Command. There were two scenarios: either the Chain had dismissed Adler allegations, which was doubtful, or he was drawing out his torture of Castiel for as long as possible, which was more likely the case.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop was the worst part. Everyday, Cas would come to work, stomach tied into knots with the thought that today was the day his professional life would end. By the end of the day, he was wound so tight, the slightest loud noise would make him jump. Balthazar had been casting him sideways glances more often and continually asking him if he was sure he was ok. Cas would brush off his concern each time. The only bright spot in the last few weeks was Dean.

They had seen each other a few more times. Cas would text at random hours when he got off work with Dean always eagerly responding. They would wind up in one of their beds with Cas slowly thrusting into Dean, fucking away any trace of anger or stress from the previous day. Cas liked his time with Dean. It was simple, uncomplicated by the normal trappings of a relationship. Dean didn't ask anything of Cas. He would never question him in depth, always satisfied with Cas' response of 'bad day' as they got undressed. Cas found a lot of irony in the fact that Dean, a man with several aliases for some mysterious reason, was completely transparent with him. Dean was the only thing that Cas life right now that made any sort of sense.

Cas is shaken from his thoughts as Zachariah conspicuously enters the squad room, chatting with Chuck. Cas catches his eye for a brief moment and he swears he sees just the barest hint of a smile flicker over Zachariah's face. He leans over and whispers something in Chuck's ear. Chuck looks toward Cas for an instant, his mouth a hard line, and nods in response, motioning Zachariah toward his office.

Castiel's mouth instantly goes dry. This is it. This is when everything begins to crumble. Chuck's blinds over his office window are down, but the forms of the two men are visible as they shift around the room. Out of his peripheral vision, he sees someone poke through the blinds and look out. Cas seems to inherently know it's in his direction. He drops his eyes down to his desk, trying not to lose his lunch all over his keyboard. He can feel the blood draining from his face. He doesn't know what Zachariah is saying, but he's probably throwing in a whole slew of allegations. "_If he lied about this, what else is he lying about?" _He can almost hear Zachariah accusing.

Cas tries to refocus on his computer, the cursor of the report in front of him blinks steadily. He swallows hard, his throat tight and dry. If he types, continuing to finish his reports, maybe he can distract himself from how much shit he is going to be in before shift change. Cas isn't terribly religious, but he silently prays to God for mercy.

Minutes seem like hours until the Lieutenant's office door opens and Zachariah walks out, not even throwing a glance in Cas' direction. Chuck stands just in the doorway, bidding goodbye to Zachariah. He scans the squad room until his eyes land on Cas.

"Novak," Chuck calls, "Can I speak to you for a minute." Cas clenches the edge of his desk and braces himself, dizzy as the bottom seems to drop out of his stomach. He stands and walks on shaky legs to Chuck's office.

Chuck steps aside as he enters and shuts the door. He walks around his desk and takes a seat. Cas lowers himself into the plastic office chair opposite him, still grossly warm from it's previous occupant.

Chuck levels his stare at Cas. His expression is soft but unreadable. Cas swallows hard again, using all his effort to keep his face blank.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Novak?" Chuck finally says. It takes Cas a minute to respond, quickly shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" Chuck continues, "Because Sargent Adler seems to think that we should be concerned for you."

"I don't… I don't know, sir," Cas mumbles. The only thing keeping him from screaming is the thought of shoving a steak knife into Zachariah's jaw. Chuck considers him before sighing sadly.

"I know what's going on, Cas," Chuck rarely uses first names, preferring the detachment of last names and titles. This isn't good. "I know I'm your supervisor, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to occasionally throw a line your way. If there's something going on, now's the time to tell me." Cas drops his head in defeat and stares at his hands.

"Lieutenant," He begins, but he can't continue. What is he even going to say? He let a suspect go for BJ? Does he need to say that he's still fucking said suspect? What about the fact that it's a guy? Enough of the station knows Cas is gay so that it's not really a secret, but to make it so blatant would not bode well for the eventual investigation.

Chuck stands and walks around the desk, sitting on the corner.

"Look, I know what you're going through," Chuck says, leaning back on his hands, "We've all had these issues, y'know. And I can tell you right now that it feels better if you talk to someone about it."

"It's complicated," Cas finally says, looking up at Chuck.

"Of course it is! Things like this aren't ever simple." Chuck gives him a sad smile.

"I… I just… I was stupid," Cas huffs and drops his head once more.

"No, no, Cas," Chuck kneels besides the chair, "It's not stupid to feel this way, we're just worried about you. Your father sounds like a great man. Y'know, when my dad was dying, my mind went to some very dark places too-"

"My Dad?" Cas interrupts, jerking his head up quickly.

"-and I get that it feels like the pain will never go away, but you will surprise yourself." Chuck places a warm hand on Cas's shoulder. Cas looks at him and blinks slowly. Did Chuck think his Dad was dying? Unless Chuck had some unknown direct line to Cas' mother, his dad was alive, in Clearwater, and most likely deep-sea fishing at the moment.

"My Dad's not dying," Cas blurts out.

"Denial is completely normal in this situation," Chuck says, shaking his head.

"No, I mean, my Dad is fine. He's perfectly healthy," Cas says. Chuck sits back on his heels, looking very perturbed.

"He is?" He says, "Adler said your dad was dying and you're taking it pretty hard." Chuck's face quickly went from concerned to confused, and Cas knew that he had to act quickly if he didn't want him to start asking the wrong type of questions.

"It's a friend of the family, actually," Cas lies, "He's like a father to me… a second father." Chuck stands and gives Cas a sad smile.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says quietly. "You're taking it pretty hard, huh?" Cas nods, putting on his best 'stoic grieving' face, all the while thinking of the number of ways he is going to murder Zachariah.

"It was a big shock, but I'm… I'm doing ok." He replies, giving Chuck a half-smile. Chuck continues to talk to him for another 15 minutes about "the grieving process" and things "being darkest before the dawn." Cas just nods and eventually escapes by saying that his shift is almost over and he needs to finish a report.

As soon as he exits Chuck's office, Cas makes a beeline out of the squad room. He is absolutely livid and needs some space before he punches someone. As soon as he turns the corner to the main hallway, the object of his ire is standing there, leaning against the wall next to the doorway. Cas stops dead in his tracks.

"Hello, Castiel," Zachariah sneers triumphantly, "Did you and Lieutenant Shurley have a nice chat?" Cas rolls his eyes and walks past him out the back door of the building. He leans against the cool stone exterior, silently counting to ten and hoping he would be able to re-enter the building without going off on Zachariah Adler. It's times like this that Castiel wishes he smoked. Then maybe he'd have some sort of distraction.

As if on cue, Cas' phone buzzes in his pocket. He digs it out to see a new text from "D" (Castiel had been too nervous to label Dean under his real name).

"_Do you want to come over after you get off?"_The text read. Dean knew that Cas was on swing shift for the next couple months. He always texted close to the end of his shift when he was interested in meeting up. Although, the idea of fucking away the night's stress with Dean did sound appealing, Cas felt physically and emotionally drained from the last hour's encounters.

"_Not tonight. I think I'm just going to hit the sack."_ Cas texts back. He'll meet up with Dean tomorrow. He takes one more deep breath and heads back inside to finish his shift.

* * *

Cas stands by his open locker, uniform hanging limply from the rail, pulling a t-shirt over his head. His mood had not improved over the remaining hours of his shift. Zachariah seemed to find reasons to be in the squad room, always directly in Castiel's line of sight, constantly shooting daggers at him. By the time Cas had logged off his computer, his mood had reached a new, and much darker, low.

"What's going on, Cassie?" Balthazar says, sidling up to Cas' locker.

"Fuck off," Cas bites. Deep down, he knows this isn't fair to Bal, but he was already working with a short fuse. Balthazar grimaces at Cas' outburst.

"Whoa, Castiel," Balthazar says, "What's going on with you?" Cas doesn't answer, slamming his locker door and turning in the opposite direction.

"Castiel," Balthazar's hand lands on his shoulder, turning him around, "Are you alright?" Cas finally looks at his friend, sincere concern evident in his expression. Cas shakes his head absently.

"No," he mutters, "It's been a real shit day and I just need some sleep." Balthazar looks at him pointedly. Cas shakes his hand off of him and continues to exit the building.

"I think you need something more than sleep." He offered, following after Cas, "C'mon, you'll feel better if you talk about it." Cas rolls his eyes at Balthazar's words, strangely echoing Chuck's earlier sentiments.

"Don't want to talk," Cas says, pushing through the door of the building.

"Well, let's grab a late dinner or something," Balthazar offers.

"Not hungry."

"Well then drinks," Balthazar jogs forward, stopping right in front of Cas, "You could use a drink, of that I am sure." Cas glares at him doubtfully, before sighing heavily. If there was ever a time where he _needed_ a drink, now was it.

"Fine. Drinks." he resigns.

"Excellent," Balthazar cheers as they walk toward the 'L'.

* * *

They end up at a bar not far from their apartment that Balthazar knows of call The Roadhouse. As soon as they sit down, Balthazar orders them a couple of Fat Tires. Cas is happy that Balthazar doesn't press him for information, rather respecting his request for silence. He probably already has an inkling of what is going on, but doesn't make light of it. Balthazar can always tell what he needs. Cas is glad for that.

Eventually, though, the quiet between them becomes even too much for Cas, and they begin to talk about random movies and TV shows. By the time he finishes his second beer, Cas if feeling thoroughly distracted and, in a strange disconnected sort of way, good.  
He's waving over the bartender to get them their third round when a strong hand lands on his shoulder spinning him around. He's met with a pair of incensed green eyes.

"Dean?" Cas is completely caught off guard by the other man's presence, "What-"

"Who the fuck is this?" Dean cuts him off loudly. Balthazar's head turns toward the outburst.

"Dean, What's wrong?" Cas face scrunches in confusion. Why is Dean yelling?

"Balthazar Roche." Balthazar reaches a hand over Cas, extending it in Dean's direction. For a split second, Cas could swear he sees a flash of recognition between the two men before Dean slaps the hand out of his face. He turns his attention back to Cas.

"You tell me you're staying in, and I find you here trying to jump into some stranger's bed?" Now it's Cas' turn to get indignant.

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you following me" He hisses, firmly grabbing onto Dean's bicep, "Are you drunk?"

"Are you cheating on me?" Dean barks, his expression is full of anger, but his eyes speak of nothing but hurt and betrayal.

"Why don't you take your friend outside before he makes even more of a scene?" Balthazar whispers in Cas' ear. Cas nods and stands, directing Dean toward the door of the bar.

Once outside, Dean shakes Cas off, spinning on his heel and facing him.

"Now, Can you calm the fuck down?" Cas huffs before Dean has a chance to say anything. Dean's nostrils flare, but he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

"Who was that guy, Cas?" Dean asks, still hot but noticeably calmer.

"Not that it's any of your business, but he's my roommate and a fellow cop," Cas responds. Dean's whole demeanor softens instantly.

"And there's nothing going on between you two?" Dean frowns deeply.

"Again, not your business, but he's painfully straight." Cas answers, exasperated.

"Why wouldn't be any of my business?" Dean questions.

"Why would it be?" Cas snaps, completely done with Dean's interrogation.

"Well, when I see the guy I'm dating out with another man, it kind of becomes my business." Dean says harshly.

Any response Cas had instantly dies on his tongue. Confusion turns to disbelief before realization slowly sets in. He shakes his head.

"Dean," he starts, hoping to spare an ounce of the other man's feelings, "We… We're not dating." Dean's face falls, his eyes going wide in incredulity.

"What we have is really fun and I like our time together, but this… it's not a relationship." Cas says as gently as he can. Dean swallows hard but doesn't say anything. "I'm sorry I… I'm sorry if I mislead you in anyway." Dean averts his gaze and lets out a humorless chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Dean says bitterly, "I mean, why would a fine, upstanding citizen like yourself want to be associated with a delinquent like me?" Cas is taken aback by Dean's sarcastic tone.

"I did not say that," Cas defends, "It's not like that at all?"

"Isn't it?" Dean retorts.

"You're a good kid, Dean-"

"Kid?!" Dean says indignantly.

"Yes, kid," Cas says, "You're 20, I'm almost 30-"

"What difference does that make?"

"We're very different people-"

"Does that matter?" Dean's voice edges on frantic.

"It's one of many things, ok? We don't know anything about each other," Cas insists. Dean just stares at him with pained eyes.

"Are you kidding?" Dean's words are thin and desperate, "_That's_ the bullshit reason you're coming up with? Oh, gee, it's not like you can't overcome that obstacle by (I don't know) _talking_!" Dean's words seem to hit Cas physically and wavers on his feet for just a moment.

"Dean, I really like what we have, but this is a very stressful time in my life and a relationship would just… throw a spanner into the works, y'know?" Cas says, trying to save face. Dean scrubs a hand down his face.

"Do you care about me at all?" He asks softly.

"What?"

"Do. You. Care. About. Me?" Dean enunciates every word. Cas hesitates. Dean catches it clearly, no longer able to control a pained noise from escaping his throat.

"Dean, I…" Cas struggles to find the right words, "You're a great guy-"

"Oh cut the bullshit, Cas!" He yells. He gathers himself for a moment, trying to calm down, "You know, I really care about you. But I can't… I'm not going to let myself be used as a fucktoy, ok?"

"Dean, can we just, just go back?" Cas asks, almost pleading. Dean shakes his head sadly.

"No," he mutters, "Do me a favor? Lose my number." Before Cas can say anything, Dean turns and walks down the block, Cas quickly losing sight of him in the dark crowd of people.

Cas stands on the sidewalk, numb from head to toe. He doesn't know why, but he feels like he just made the second worst mistake of his life.

* * *

**_Oh, Cas... you're such an idiot._**

**_The "English Muffin Pizza" thing is a reference to comedian Mike Birbiglia and My Secret Public Journal. It's awesome and should definitely be checked out._**


	7. Assault and Battery

Cas barely registers walking back into the bar. He lurches back to his stool, a concerned Balthazar looking on. Before he can say a word, Cas chugs the remainder of his beer in one swig.

"Cassie, what was that? Did you and your little boyfriend have a tiff?" Castiel's whole body seems to clench at the word.

"Not my boyfriend," He mutters as he plops back onto the stool. He raises a finger, signaling the bartender for another. He can feel Balthazar's eye on him, burning holes into the side of his head.

"Bal, I said I didn't want to talk.," Cas says stiffly, "That still remains true. Now shut up and drink your fucking beer." Cas has always been told that his poker face was exceptional and right now he hoped it was true, because internally he was screaming. What was Dean's problem? Why couldn't he have just left well enough alone? What they had was good; better than good really. It was fantastic; mutually beneficial and mutually satisfying. There wasn't any reason to screw it up with any sort of relationship. And really, what relationship was there to speak of? They knew nothing about each other.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose tightly.

No, that wasn't exactly true. Cas knew that Dean was an orphan, he had a younger brother and he was originally from Kansas. He knew that Dean drank black coffee with a dash of sugar. He knew that Dean made pop culture references that Cas just did not understand (He always called Cas 'Jimmy McNulty' and then berated Cas when he said he'd never seen "The Wire"). He loved his car, pie and something called LARPing. He worked long hours because "Stanford isn't going to pay for itself", referring to his brother. He sang Zeppelin and Asia songs in the shower at the top of his lungs and when Cas would mouth the tender skin right behind his ear he made the nicest little noises.

Cas takes a long pull off his bottle. He'll admit he knows more about Dan than he had previously thought, but still everything they did was centered on sex. They had had their first blow job before their first real conversation. That is not how you start a healthy relationship.

And even more than that, Cas is under a lot of fucking pressure at work. The last thing he needs is a distraction and Dean definitely falls into that category.

"Castiel," Balthazar says after a long while, "I don't mind if you don't want to talk, but could you please not think so loud?" Cas gives his friend a sad half smile and sips his beer.

"I'll try to think quieter," he says lightly. He pulls his wallet out and slaps a twenty on the bar, "I'm headed home. You going to stick around some?" Castiel could see a few of the women in the place eyeing Balthazar and, knowing his friend, he was going to make a valiant effort to bed all of them at once.

"Yes, I think I shall," Bal says, his lips curling into a grin. Cas claps him on the shoulder before heading out into the autumn air.

Cas heavily climbs the stairs to his apartment. He feels numb all over, like a wool blanket is wrapped around every nerve. It's actually a welcome change from the tightly wound anxiety of earlier tonight. He knows this feeling is temporary, but tonight he's going to enjoy the reprieve. Still, there is a tiny twinge in the back of his mind about Dean. It's a strange ache, but he can feel it like pins and needles in his brain. For a brief second, he wishes he could text Dean and fuck the pain away, and that thought just seems to make it worse.

Cas falls face first onto his bed, fully dressed, with a grunt. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts. the 'D' on the screen stares back at him. His thumb hovers over the little 'message' icon before he quickly hits _Edit _and scrolls down to _Delete Contact_.

This is what Dean wants. He said "lose my number" and that is just what Cas is doing. A message box pops up asking to _Delete D?_. Cas sighs and closes his eyes, pressing the _Yes _button.

* * *

Dean turns the key in the lock and opens his apartment door. He's greeted by a snoring Sam passed out on the couch, calves hanging off over the side. JBTV blares in the background. Dean pulls the remote out of Sam's loose grip and switches off the TV. Sam stirs awake suddenly.

"You're back," he mumbles, "What time is it?" Dean glances at the clock above the stove.

"11:33," He answers.

"Didn't think you'd be home this early," Sam remarks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Dean slumps down besides him on the couch.

"Neither did I," Dean answers. He's completely drained from tonight's events. Out of the corner of his vision, he can see Sam pulling a face. It's his "talking" face.

"Have you been drinking?" It's a fair question, but it still pisses Dean off. He gives a quick shake of his head, but doesn't look at Sam.

"Did you and your boyfriend have a fight or something?" He asks, concerned. Dean gives a humorless snort.

"Not my boyfriend, actually." He mutters bitterly. Sam's eyes narrow and he looks like he is about to say something, but Dean cuts him off, "Don't worry about it, Sam. Why don't you take the bed tonight? I'll crash out here." This seems to distract Sam from whatever he was going to say. He rises and calls a 'goodnight' to Dean before closing the door of the apartment's single bedroom.

Dean rises from the sofa and shrugs off his jacket. He switches off the kitchen light and toes off his boots before slipping out of his jean. He sighs heavily as he stretches out on the couch. This was not the night he'd planned. He'd been hoping to curl up next to Cas after getting his brains fucked out. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into the cushion, attempting to stave off the tears. After walking away from Cas, he'd hopped onto the train and allowed himself a few brief minutes to quietly cry in the company of strangers. His head hurt and his heart hurt. The look on Cas' face tonight, he just couldn't seem to forget it. It was this strange mix of confusion, rejection and pity and it made Dean want to disappear. He can't believe he had misjudged the situation, misjudged Cas, so completely.

The way Cas would touch him, how he'd brush his fingers along Dean's jaw just before he'd kiss him, it had felt like caring. It felt like love, to be honest.

But it wasn't.

Dean rolls over and rubs his temples. Cas probably thought he was a crazy stalker, too. He had no idea Cas wa going to go to the Roadhouse, hell, the Roadhouse was _his_ bar. When he had seen Cas and what's his name (_Balto? Brabazon? Whatever_), he had just seen red. Christ, he came off like such a pathetic asshole. Cas is probably laughing it up how he got some stupid twink completely hooked on him.

Dean wants to be angry, so angry. He wants to rail and curse and smash the shit out of something, but… but he just can't. He just feels sad.

He sighs heavily. There's no way he's falling asleep right now. He stands and walks to the kitchen, getting a glass of water. He stares out the kitchen window into nothing. There isn't much of a view, just their neighbor's back yard. He needs a change of scenery. He was serious about Key West. Maybe he and Sam can just go down there for the summer. They can wade around in the ocean, soak up some sun and Dean can clear his head, get _Castiel Novak_ out of his system.

He walks back into the living room and lays down on the couch, extending his long legs past the arm rest. He closes his eyes and prays for sleep. He knows eventually, sooner than later, he'll no longer be in love with Cas. For some reason, that hurts worst of all.

* * *

The thrum of the squad room seems to fade around Castiel as he works. He types methodically, studiously working his way through his way through reports. Over the last few weeks, he'd developed a pretty steady routine: wake up, run, shower, go to work, do his job, don't think about Dean. All and all, he's been mostly successful at it but extracting Dean from his thoughts turned out to be a lot more difficult than he'd initially thought. He'd slipped up a handful of times, letting his mind wander to the memory of Dean's smile or the way he'd look at Cas when he was talking. Dean's eyes would always linger on him, as if he was the only person on earth worth listening to.

Cas realizes that he's stopped typing. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and refocuses on his task. He only has a couple more weeks until he's reinstated into patrol and he's determined not to jeopardize it. He just has to keep his head low and stay under the radar. That would be a whole lot easier, though, if Zachariah hadn't decided to make Cas his new project.

His meeting with Chuck about Cas' "dad" was just the beginning. Zachariah's torment had increased exponentially, especially when he'd realized that Cas was taking the path of least resistance. He would report him for harassment, but Zachariah's smart. He knows just how to get under Castiel's skin without being obvious.

Zachariah now insisted on using the first floor break room rather than the one near his own office upstairs. He'd casually mention getting new business cards to fellow officers in the break room when Cas is in earshot, saying how he's careful who he gives them to. Newspaper clippings about law enforcement officers landing in prison would anonymously end up on his desk or he'd arrive in the morning with items rearranged just enough so that it seemed as if someone had been snooping. A few days ago, Samandriel had approached Cas and asked if he would like to attend bible study with him since he'd heard Cas was attending a support group for sex addicts and was having some trouble. Cas had only been able to give a manic laugh in response. He knew Zachariah played dirty, but this was a low even for him.

Cas' eyes start to strain and he presses the heel of his hands into them. He glances at the empty mug on his desk and mentally calculates how many cups of coffee he's had in the last four hours. He sighs and stands from his desk. He could use a short break.

When he enters the bathroom, it's empty. Cas quickly relieves himself and washes his hands when the door opens with a thud.

"Castiel," Zachariah. _of course_, "Just the man I was looking for." Cas rolls his eyes and grabs a paper towel from the dispenser to dry his hands. He tries to push past Zachariah when a large hand lands on his shoulder.

"Oh ho, where do you think you're going?" Zachariah says with a malicious grin. Cas notices a report folder clutched in his other hand.

"Back to work-" Cas starts to say.

"Oh, but I've got something here you've got to see," Zachariah enthuses. He holds up the folder, opens it and begins to read.

"Dean Henry Winchester, born 24 January 1979. Several arrests: fraud, public disturbance, assault, the list goes on. Impressive for someone so young." Zachariah nods slowly, "No family of record, except one. Says here he has a younger brother, age 16. Wonder how he's able to be legal guardian with all charges? I bet DCFS would _love _to hear about this." Zachariah grins vindictively. All the blood seems to drain from Cas' face. He's stuck to the spot, unable to move his feet.

"Your little friend and I are going to have a good time," Zachariah hisses.

"Leave Dean out of this," Cas' voice is flat and cool. Zachariah gives him a piteous look.

"Now why the hell would I that?" He says with a caustic sneer.

"He has nothing to do with this," Cas insists, a plea bleeding through in his voice.

"No, you see, he does," Zachariah laughs condescendingly, "See, _You _are a thorn in my fucking side. You care about our little buddy, Dean, here. Therefore, I am going to have so much fun fucking with him." His last words seem to burn Cas' ears and he sees red.

Zachariah isn't much taller than Cas, but he has at least 50 lbs on him. This doesn't stop Cas from physically slamming Zachariah against the back wall of the bathroom, lifting him a couple inches off the ground and pressing his forearm into his throat.

"Listen to me you greasy little fuck-stain," Cas spits out, "If you lay one finger on Dean, if you even _think _about him, I will come after you and everything you love." Zachariah's jaw twitches. He snorts softly.

"You don't get it, Novak-"

"No _you _don't get it!" Cas barks, thrusting his arms harder into his throat, "I. Am. Not. Fucking around. I will _end you_and make it look like an accident!" Cas can only imagine that he looks as unhinged as he feels right now. Zachariah's eyes go wide and he inhales sharply.

"Clear?" Cas asks.

"Completely," Zachariah answers cooly. Cas loosens his arm and lets him go. Zachariah rubs at his throat. Cas turns away from him and scrubs a hand through his hair.

"Y'know, I don't get you Novak." Zachariah grouses, "What's so special about this guy? Twinks like him are a dime a dozen. You could've gotten one with a little less mileage on him, at least." He shakes his head and checks his suit in the mirror, straightening his tie, "I mean with this kid's rap sheet, I can bet he's spread his legs for every precinct from here to-" Zachariah doesn't even see Cas' fist flying toward his face until it connects.

Castiel pulls back with an hiss, clutching his throbbing hand. Zachariah staggers backward. He knocks into the wall and drags a hand across his face, noticing the trail of blood it leaves as he does. His expression blooms from shock into a satisfied little smile.

"Oh, you've fucked up now," He says, "You have no idea the shit storm you've just brought down on yourself." He picks himself up, pressing a hand to his nose to stop the bleeding.

"I was just having some fun with you, but it seems like you're ready to play with the big boys," Zachariah grabs a paper towel, pressing it to his face. He leans in close to Cas. "Prepare to hear from IAB before the end of the day." He storms past Cas, slamming through the bathroom door.

Castiel stands in the middle of the room, stunned, cradling his hand. His mouth hangs open loosely. What the fuck did he just do? _What the Fuck did he just do?_He looks up and catches sight of himself in the mirror: hair askew, eyes wild, a thin film of sweat forming at his brow. He lurches backwards and slides down the wall, letting his head fall into his hands. He can feel his heart beating frantically in his chest, the sound of it drowning out all other noises in the room.

"Shit." the word echoes through the empty space.

* * *

Castiel hears the front door unlock, but doesn't look up from his spot on the living room floor.

"Castiel?" Balthazar says carefully, catching sight of him as he enters. Cas' eyes are shut but he can feel Bal approaching, "What are you doing home?"

"Sent home. Suspended. Again." Castiel answers, "Reconvening my board."

"Why?" Bal says with disbelief.

"Punched Zachariah."

"You're kidding."

"Nope," Cas opens his eyes in time to catch his friend's pleased smile.

"Are you drunk?" Bal asks. He's already noticed the bottle of vodka on the table, picking it up and glancing at it.

"Nope," Cas shakes his head lamely, "Just… warm." Cas isn't a big drinker. He was still nursing his first vodka and orange juice, although he won't admit that to Bal for fear of getting called a lightweight. He sits up slowly and leans back against his hands.

"I fucked up, Bal." He admits, looking up at his friend.

"Punching Adler? I'd say so."

"No, no," Cas waves his hand dismissively, "Before that. With Dean." His shoulders slump and his head falls toward his chest. He pushes off the floor and flops onto the couch, letting his face fall into the armrest.

"Ah," Bal answers, coming around and sitting down next to Castiel, "Your boyfriend."

"Not my boyfriend," Cas mumbles into the upholstery. Bal pats his back lightly before picking his cup up off the floor. He sniffs Cas' drink then unscrews the vodka bottle, adding a healthy pour to the cup.

"Here" Bal says, nudging Cas, "Stop moping and drink this." Cas sits up and takes the cup. He nearly chokes as he takes a drink, coughing hard through the burn of the alcohol. He hears Bal mutter "lightweight" under his breath.

"Now," Balthazar says, gripping his shoulders, "You're going to talk. Tell me what is going on with you?" Cas looks away from his friend and leans his head back against the sofa. He takes a sip of his 50/50 orange and vodka mix.

"Do you have a couple hours?" Cas says, defeated.

"For you, Cassie, I have all day," Bal says, "Now talk."

So he does.

* * *

It takes a long while, but Castiel tells him everything. When he finishes talking, they sit there in silence for several minutes. Balthazar seems to be absorbing the information.

"Well, that was quite… Informative," He finally says. Cas snorts and picks up his cup, draining the rest of his (now third) drink.

"I have one question for you, Castiel," Bal says, turning to look at his friend, "Why on Earth did you tell this Dean that you weren't in a relationship?" Cas looks up and grimaces at him.

"Because we aren't, we weren't." He replies with some irritation, "It was just sex."

"Ah-huh," Bal says with nod, a calculating glimmer in his eye, "Tell me, Castiel, did you leave right after?"

"What?"

"Did you leave right after you'd finished having sex?" Balthazar clarifies. Cas shakes his head slowly.

"No, not always," _not ever_, Cas thinks.

"Did you spend the night?" Bal continues.

"Sometimes."

"Did he ever spend the night here?"

"Uh, yeah" Cas admits, noticing Balthazar's arched brow at the response.

"Did you talk?"

"Yeah, of course,"

"About things other than sex?"

"Yeah," Cas nods, unclear as to where this is headed.

"About things like, oh, I don't know, likes, dislikes, family, occupations, hopes, dreams…?" Balthazar gives Cas a smug look, almost certain of the answer

"Yes," Cas mumbles with a frown.

"Did you ever go on a date?" Cas has to laugh there.

"No, that never happened." He says firmly.

"Are you sure?" Bal asks, raising an eyebrow, "You never spent any time together where sex wasn't the objective?" A memory of going to see Dean's friend's band flashes through Cas' mind.

"Does it count if some sort of sex eventually did happen?" Cas says, averting his gaze to his cuticles.

"Still a date."

"Then yes," Cas answers with a heavy sigh.

"Finally, Cassie," Bal crosses his arms over his chest, "If you didn't care about him, then why did you act like you did and attack Adler like that?" Balthazar's interrogation training had served him well. Castiel lets his head fall into his hands with a groan.

"Just as I thought. Castiel, you appear to be the proud owner of a BF 5000." Balthazar grins smugly at his own cleverness. Cas just shakes his head sadly in his hand.

"Had," he mutters, "Had a boyfriend. Past tense. Fucking hates me now," He looks up, his expression dour.

"He told me to delete his number and I did. That's it. Done." Castiel goes to reach for his bottle, but it is quickly snatched away.

"No, no more of that," Bal hides the bottle out of Cas' reach, "Don't worry, Cassie, we'll get this all figured out. Just give me a couple days and we'll figure out how to fix-"

"No," His voice is flat and stern, "No more. No more 'fixing' things. I'm done trying to… buck the system." He rises from the couch on wobbly legs. Balthazar looks like he is about to say something, but he is cut-off.

"No, Bal, it's time for me to get what's coming to me. I've earned this," Cas' face is completely dismal, "I am a fuck up. It's time for me to face the music." He turns and heads down the hallway before Balthazar can say anything.

"I'm headed to bed. I'll see you in the morning," Cas calls before entering his room and slamming the door.


	8. Perjury Under Oath

Dean's chainmail rattles as he slumps against the wall. It's a particularly warm day for early October and he can feel a bead of sweat run from underneath his viking wig down the nape of his neck. He carefully wipes his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic, trying not to mess up his warpaint.

"Dean?" Charlie glares at him expectantly.

"Hmm?" He answers

"Did you hear what I just said?" She asks.

"We, um… We attack at Dawn?" He mutters.

"The Orc King wants meet to discuss a truce," Charlie sighs, "You've been a space cadet all day. You need to focus. I can't have my handmaiden off her game"

"For the last time, I am your personal guard, _not your handmaiden_!" Dean insists.

"Hey, if the slipper fits, _m'lady_." Charlie says playfully.

"Call me that again, and I'm buying you a fedora," Dean warns. Charlie's eyes narrow.

"You wouldn't," she counters.

"Try me," he challenges. He normally has a lot of fun at their LARPing events. They give him a chance to be a warrior and fight battles, even if it is with foam swords. Today is just not working for him, though. He's put on a happy face for his friends, trying to act as normal as possible, but his mind keeps lingering on Cas and it's making him distracted and miserable. Last week, he finally broke down and told Sam the bare-bones account of what happened, just enough to satisfy his well-meaning younger brother. Sam's exact words were "Fuck him. You can do better." Dean had to laugh, the language was so unexpected from Sam.

"Are you doing alright, Dean?" Charlie piped up, "You're not yourself right now." She wore a worried frown. Dean gave her a sad smile; Charlie was awesome. She could be a little weird, but she was good people and one of the few people Dean felt like he could really count on in life.

"It's just…" He shrugs and struggles to find the words, "I was seeing this guy for awhile, well, I thought I was seeing him, and a few weeks ago I saw him at a bar with another man. I thought he was stepping out on me, but it turns out the guy was his roommate." Charlie nods as he talks, her brow pulled together tight.

"Anyway, he was like 'Why'd you think I was cheating? We're not even dating?' but I thought we were." Dean's voice starts to rise, "And now I look like some crazy stalker because I showed up at the bar, even though it's my bar!"

"This was at the Roadhouse?" Charlie asks.

"Yeah! And he was like 'you're a great kid, Dean.'" Dean imitates Cas' low timbre. Charlie grimaces

"Ooh, 'kid'. That's gotta hurt," she says.

"Yeah," Dean agrees sadly, "And the thing is, I really liked the guy. Like, a lot." He averts his eyes, and kicks at a stray rock on the ground.

"Damn," Charlie says after a long pause, "That sucks. No wonder you're such a buzzkill right now." Dean jerks his head up, ready to argue, when one of the lower guards approaches Charlie.

"Your highness, the Elven King requests an audience," Dean is immediately on guard. The Elves didn't normally interact with the Moondoorians. They tended to stay in their "realm" on the south corner of the park and only came out for battles. Dean thinks they're snooty, but Charlie says that most of them are cool in small doses.

"Let him pass," Charlie announces, adjusting her own tunic and royal sash. The guards immediately part to let the Elven King through. As soon as he approaches, Dean's jaw nearly drops to the ground.

"Your Highness," The Elven King greets, "As always, it is a pleasure to see you." He takes Charlie's hand and kisses it. The morning sun glints off the thin gold crown that rests at his temples.

"It's wonderful to see you too, your Majesty," Charlie says with perfectly practiced diplomacy, "You look very well. Tell me, for what reason are we graced with your presence?" The King straightens and his shoulders, relaxing slightly.

"I was hoping to speak to your guard here," He says, turning his attention to Dean, "Privately," he adds. Charlie casts a sidelong glance at Dean, who shrugs slightly in return.

"Of course," Charlie answers. She turns to Dean, "I shall be in my quarters," Dean nods and watches as she disappears into her tent. Dean turns his attention to the King.

"I thought I recognized you," he smirks. The other man raises a questioning brow. Dean rolls his eyes, "Your Highness," he mutters, to the man's pleased smile

"As did I." the King says, "You look different with long hair."

"You look different with pointy ears," Dean retorts, "Benedict, right?"

"Balthazar, actually."

"Right," Dean says with a humorless smirk, "Look, if you want to threaten me about staying away from Cas, done." He holds up his hands defensively.

"That's not why I'm here," Balthazar says cooly. Dean snorts.

"So what, did Cas send you to apologize for him? 'Cause that's pretty weak," Dean bites out. Balthazar gives him a patient look, like a parent riding out a tantrum.

"Of course not. Castiel doesn't know I'm here," he answers, "He doesn't even know I do this." Dean scrunches up his face in confusion.

"What does he _think _you do on the weekends?" He asks.

"Any number of things, but certainly not this," He responds, flicking at one of his prosthetic ears. "I am here on Castiel's behalf, though." Dean's face instantly goes hard.

"No," he declares tensely, "Not going to happen," Dean turns to walk away.

"Are you really going to let your pride keep you from the man that you love?" Balthazar calls out, stopping Dean in his tracks. He turns back to Balthazar, eyes wide.

"It's written all over your face," Balthazar says, answering the unasked question, "Clearly, you care a lot about him. And he cares about you too."

"Yeah right," Dean mutters, looking away.

"No, he does," Balthazar is quick to defend his friend, "He does care for you. Much more than I think he even understands." Dean looks up to see sincerity in Balthazar's eyes.

"He knows he hurt you," the older man continues, "He understands how badly he screwed things up and he hates himself for it." Dean flops back against the wall. He doesn't want to hear this. As much as he's tried to hate Cas these last few weeks, the thought of Cas in pain still causes his heart to clench.

"Castiel is a good man." Balthazar continues, "Very analytical, it makes him a good cop, but social cues are not his forte, even within himself. He's had a plan for his life since he was a child, and I don't think he ever accounted too much for relationships. But he does feels things very deeply, especially for you."

"It'd be nice to hear it from him," Dean says sadly.

"He won't do that," Balthazar offers, giving Dean a wan smile, "One of the wonderful things about Cassie is that when someone he cares about tells him to do something, he does it. No questions asked. And you told him to leave you alone." Dean's frown deepens. He thinks his exact words were 'lose my number'. He scrubs a hand over his face.

"Is this what you came here to tell me?" Dean asks, annoyed. Balthazar straightens, once again entering 'King' mode.

"No, actually. I need your help," He answers, "You obviously know something about Castiel's troubles at work, yes?"

"Yeah, with that Zachariah asshole, right" Balthazar hums in confirmation.

"Hard to believe, but the situation has actually gotten worse." He says. Dean's eyes go wide and a knot of worry twists in his stomach.

"How bad?" He asks tentatively.

"Very, very bad," Balthazar answers, "And Castiel has lost any drive to fight it. He needs my help." He looks pointedly at Dean, "And I need you." Realization of the severity of what Balthazar is asking of him suddenly descends on him. His face hardens.

"Why should I help him? He doesn't even want to help himself," Dean says crossing his arms over his chest. Balthazar tilts his head; it's a movement so suggestive of Cas. He wonders who rubbed off on who.

"Because you love him," He states plainly, "You care about what happens to him, and deep down you believe that he cares about you, which he does." Balthazar approaches Dean.

"But mostly, Dean," His demeanor hardens instantly, "Because we both know that if it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be in this mess." Dean's clenches his jaw and averts his eyes, ashamed.

"Castiel won't ever admit, and I doubt he even believes it," Balthazar's expression darkens, "But you and I both know the truth, don't we?" Dean swallows hard. Cas' friend could be downright frightening when he wanted to be. He was right, though; Dean had been eaten up with guilt every time Cas mentioned work, his suspension or Zachariah. Cas didn't deserve to lose his job and he certainly didn't deserve to go to prison. Dean needed to help fix this; he owed Cas that much at least.

"Alright," Dean says quietly, "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Castiel sits on the hard wooden bench outside the Hearing Room. It had taken just over a week to schedule his hearing, thanks to Zachariah expediting everything. His union rep said he'd meet Cas here, but he seems to be running late. Cas checks his phone for missed calls, but his signal is spotty within the walls of the station.

He's tense and there is the tell-tale throb of a headache forming right behind his eyes. He looks up and considers his reflection in the mirrored wall that lines the hallway. He didn't sleep at all last night and it shows. His whole body seems deflated. Deep purple bags line his eyes and furrows have begun to form across his forehead. His shoulders slump in, chafing against the fabric of his dress uniform. The wool jacket is stiff from lack of use and he feels choked by the tie. He picks up his cap from beside him and holds it in his hands. He brushes a thumb over the emblem on the front.

He's going to miss being a cop. He's going to miss his freedom too, but not same way. Being a police officer had been his dream. Everything he'd done for the last 15 years of his life was all just a means to this. It gave him purpose and a sense of self, like he mattered. Nothing in his life had made him feel that way… well, until Dean.

Cas lets his head drop into his palm. He can't think about Dean right now. It will only serve to make him miserable and right now he has to be collected as possible. He needs to remain stoic and take his punishment like a man.

Cas suddenly notices the time. It's 1:30. He was scheduled to testify at noon. He realizes that no one has gone in or come out of the hearing room in some time. He stands and approaches the door. Taking a deep breath, he opens it.

Rather than a 7-person panel, the room holds no one; it's empty. Cas looks around. He keeps turning, expecting someone to pop out from behind him.

"They're gone," a voice says. Cas looks up to see Zachariah glaring back at him from the doorway, "The board has adjourned." Zachariah clenches his jaw. If Cas didn't know better, he'd say he was pouting.

"I… I don't understand," Cas stutters. eyes wide and confused.

"The case was dismissed. With prejudice." Zachariah snarls, "All charges dropped" He huffs a sour laugh. Relief crashes over Castiel so hard he fears he might pass out. He wants to fall into a nearby chair, when Zachariah fists the lapel of Cas' jacket and pulls him in.

"I don't know how you and your little buddy Roche did it, but I am going to find out." Zachariah sneers, "You may have gotten away with it time, but I _know_ you are dirty," Zachariah throws Cas out of his grip. Castiel stumbles a little before regaining his footing. He is confused. Balthazar? What did he have to do with this?

"Balthazar? Why…?" He murmurs. "I don't understand." Zachariah casts a withering look.

"Sure you don't," he says sarcastically, "Roche just decided to testify on your behalf without your knowledge. Said him and Winchester go way back and he told you to let him go." Cas feels like all the air is punched out of his lungs. Zachariah shakes his head in disgust.

"The charges were all dropped," Cas realizes, finally sliding into a chair. His legs were on the brink of giving out beneath him.

"I was told very clearly that I was not to bring this case to their attention again, under threat of punitive action." Zachariah says, angry disappointment seeping into every word. Cas rubs his hands down his face, relief flooding through his entire body, eliciting a shiver down his spine. He'd cry if Zachariah wasn't in the room. Suddenly a thought worrying occurs to him. He stands quickly.

"I gotta go," Cas says, turning to leave. Before he can, Zachariah grips his arm painfully.

"Your luck can only last so long, Novak," Zachariah hisses. Cas glares at him and jerks his arm away like his skin burns from the contact. "Sooner or later you are going to slip up and when you do, I will come down on you like a hammer. Mark my words" Zachariah's sallow eyes are wide and frantic. Cas meets his gaze for a long moment before a tired, sick laugh bubbles up from within him.

"Y'know Zach," He says, running a hand through his hair, "If that is all you have to look forward to, I pity you." His face hardens on the last word. He stares Zachariah down before turning and quickly leaving the hearing room.

* * *

Balthazar is pulling a deep blue v-neck over his head when Castiel storms into the locker room.

"Cassie, what a pleasant surprise," he comments. Cas grips his arm tight, dragging him through the locker room and throwing him into a utility closet. He follows him inside, closing the door behind them. His senses are assaulted by the smell industrial cleaners, stagnant water and dust. He switches on the light, bathing both men in harsh fluorescent light.

"There is a joke in here somewhere, I just know it," Balthazar mumbles as he examines his surroundings. Cas glares at him.

"Why?" he asks cooly. Balthazar turns his attention to him, expression blank.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, clearly playing innocent.

"Why did you do it?" Cas asks, crossing his arms. His irritation is barely hidden.

"Your hearing," Balthazar says after a minute, a coy grin playing at his lips.

"Yes," Cas hisses, "Why did you testify?"

"Because you are my friend, Castiel," Bal says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, "and you didn't deserve Zachariah's abuse, whether or not you thought otherwise." Cas rubs at his temples. His friend's concern is much appreciated, but at what cost?

"You are risking your career for me." Cas mutters, frowning deeply.

"Am I?" Bal asks.

"You lied." Cas' voice is agitated, "You perjured yourself. You said you knew Dean, that you're friends. Bal, If this ever surfaces…" Cas let's his words drop, unwilling to think about the consequences for Bal or even himself. The relief from earlier seems to have evaporated, replaced with fear for his friend. Bal tilts his head and stares at Cas.

"Who said I lied?" He replies. Cas looks up to see Balthazar calmy smirking. He pulls his phone from his back pocket, opening an app and pressing buttons until he finds the screen he wants. He gathers in close to Cas and hands him the phone. It is a large group photo of men and women dressed in Medieval garb, all of whom are carrying various forms of weaponry.

"That right there is me, in the back, and down in the corner is your boy Dean, he looks different with the wig, I know," Cas examines the image. Bal is right, that is Dean. His face is painted like something out of Braveheart and a stringy blond wig falls just past his shoulders. His expression is hard, but his eyes are bright and full of life. He's having fun.

"What is this?" Cas mumbles, not quite processing what he's seeing.

"It's from last year's Grand Battle for my LARPing group." Bal answers.

"Larping?" Cas asks, familiar with the word, but not the concept.

"Live Action Role Playing," Bal clarifies. Cas looks at Bal, mouth agape. He holds up one finger, trying to process everything.

"We are going to discuss whatever... _this_ is later," Cas sputters out, holding up the phone, "But first: Why didn't you tell me that you knew Dean?!"

"Well, I didn't _really_ know him," Bal says, taking his phone back from Cas, "He's in a different clan, but we've done battle a few times. I didn't recognize him at first. It took me a few days after he stormed into the bar to put two and two together." Cas lets himself fall back against one of the supply shelves.

"But how?... " Cas trails off, "You told them you said to let Dean go."

"I said that you were doing me a personal favor for a friend and you took the rap because you felt that saying anything would be ratting me out," Bal gives him a satisfied smile. Cas shakes his head, still puzzled.

"But the card?"

"I gave Dean both of our cards, just in case he was ever in a jam and one of us wasn't available." Bal responds, clearly pleased that he had an answer to all of Castiel's question.

"So you did lie," Cas says flatly.

"I did not," Bal assures, "I just may have not been clear on exactly _when_ I gave him the cards" Bal moves past Castiel and reaches for the handle, opening the closet door. He herds Cas out into the locker room.

"So they just took your word for it?" Cas asks.

"Well, Dean's input helped," Cas' head shot up at that.

"Dean? Dean was here?"

"He had a signed affidavit, actually. Admitted to escaping and everything." Bal says as he heads back to his lockers. Cas follows close behind

"He's… He's not in custody, is he?" Cas asks tentatively.

"Well, he was facing a fine of sorts," Bal says as he grabs his jacket out of the locker, "But by the end I think the board was just so sick of it all, they dismissed all charges." Castiel finds himself exhaling heavily in relief. He falls onto the bench and stares up at Balthazar as he shuts his locker.

"But how am I in the clear?" Cas says shaking his head, "I punched Zachariah!" Balthazar rolls his eyes.

"Yes, you've done something the entire department has dreamed of doing for at least six years now. You'll probably receive some kind of commendation medal for it." He levels his stare at Cas, "Believe me, the board didn't give a shit about that." Cas sighs heavily, averting his eyes.

"Thank you, Bal," He says quietly. Bal smiles warmly in response.

"Always, Cassie," He says, leaning against his locker.

"I don't deserve any of it," Cas mutters sadly, "I'm a fuck-up." Balthazar's expression goes hard.

"Castiel, you are not a fuck-up, you fucked up" he states firmly, "A fuck-up doesn't care who they hurt. A fuck-up doesn't try to fix their mistakes. A fuck up is doesn't take responsibility for their actions." Balthazar sits down on the bench next to Cas.

"That isn't you, Cassie," He continues, "You made a mistake. It was bad, but you wouldn't do that again, would you?" Balthazar raises a questioning eyebrow. Cas shakes his head silently.

"We all fuck up. It's human nature." Bal pats and encouraging hand on his back, "But if you don't get off your ass right now and go find Dean and try to make things right, or at least sincerely apologize, that you actually will be, well and truly, a fuck up." The words hang heavy in Cas' ear and he can feel the hum of eager anticipation running through him.

"I have to find him," Cas says quietly. Balthazar grins brightly and squeezes his shoulder.

"That's my boy. Now go get your boyfriend." Cas suddenly looks at him with a worried expression.

"What if he doesn't want me anymore?" Cas says. Balthazar shakes his head fondly.

"Do you really think he would have helped you avoid jail time if he didn't feel something for you?" Cas can't help but huff a relieved laugh at that. He stands and quickly makes his way to the exit.

"Castiel," Balthazar calls after. Cas turns just before he reaches the door, "If you do anything to hurt that dear boy, I am soaking your underwear in hamburger then siccing the K9 unit on you." Castiel laughs brightly, nodding, before dashing out the door.

* * *

Cas is beginning to sweat through his shirt by the time he reaches Dean's apartment. Indian summer is in full swing and he can feel claminess blooming all over his skin. He was still without a squad car and had to take public transportation to reach Dean's neighborhood. His jacket is folded over his arm, tie stuffed in his pocket and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He's out of regs, but right now his focus lies on getting to Dean.

He removes his hat as he approaches the building. Someone had left the front door propped open, so Castiel is able to slip in without ringing the buzzer. He climbs the three flights to Dean's floor. As he stops in front of Dean's door, he takes a deep breath. _Now or never,_ he thinks, knocking on the door.

He stands in silence as he waits for an answer. After several second he begins to fear that no one is home. Before he can decide whether it would be better to wait by the door or not, he hears footsteps approaching on the opposite side of the door. It opens to reveal the lanky form of Sam Winchester.

"Hello Sam," Cas says. Sam's expression is icy.

"Hi," He says. There is a beat as Cas waits for Sam to say something.

"um, Is Dean here?" He finally asks after a minute of silence. Sam shakes his head, not taking his gaze off of Cas. "Do you… Do you know where he is?" Sam doesn't respond; he just stands there like a statue, staring Cas down.

"Is he at work?" There is no answer. "Is that a 'yes'?" Sam's eyes just narrow, he anger toward Cas palpable in the air.

"Can you tell me where he is?" He asks, receiving the barest shake of a head in reply. Cas sighs in frustration.

"Please, Sam. I need to see him," he begs, "I just … Just need to talk to him." Sam's jaw clenches as his eyes bore through Castiel

"You really hurt him, you know," he finally says. Cas nods sadly.

"I know, I know. I'm a fucking idiot," Cas admits, "And I just need to see him and find some way to make this right, or at least apologize for my behavior… Please." Cas knows he is groveling. He doesn't care. Sam's expression seems to soften somewhat at that.

"He works at a place called Singer's." Sam sighs, "It's up in Ravenswood." Castiel can't help but smile.

"Thank you, Sam," He says, "So much." Sam nods, but before Cas can move away from the door, all 6"4' of Winchester crowds in on him.

"If you ever hurt him again," Sam's expression is blank, but his eyes betray him, "I'll break all of your fingers." Cas swallows hard at the threat.

"Heard and understood," he murmurs. He backs away slowly, mumbling a goodbye as Sam steps back into the apartment and closes the door.

* * *

Dean is slapping bondo into the dings on the side of some souped-up rice burner, when Bobby comes into the garage.

"Dean, are you in trouble?" the older man says, leaning on the side of the car. "Do you need me to call a bail bondsmen or something?" Dean lifts his head, raising an eyebrow.

"What are talking about?" He asks.

"Because there's a cop at the front counter asking for you." Dean frowns. After the last few days, he's had enough police interactions to last him a lifetime, but he's not about to tempt fate. He grabs a shop towel and wipes off his hands as he makes his way to the lobby.

Standing in the small lobby, dark hair matted to his forehead and wet stains forming under his arms, is Cas. He looks like he was presentable at some point earlier in the day, but has been put through the ringer since. His collar is loosened and the top button is undone. He hasn't seen Dean and is quietly looking around the lobby as he waits.

Dean stops for a moment to watch the other man. Even in his disheveled state, he's still perfect. His heart twists at this unsolicited admission. It takes a second for Cas to notice that Dean has entered the room, eyes widening when they land on him.

"Hello Dean," He says. Dean crosses the small space, coming around the counter. His expression is impassive.

"Hi Cas," He says softly. They stand there for a second in awkward silence, neither one really knowing what to say.

"How have you been?" Cas finally asks. Dean shrugs lamely, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coveralls.

"Same, I guess," He answers, "You?"

"My charges were dropped." He replies, "Balthazar told me what you did. I wanted to thank you." Dean smiles briefly in response.

"Least I could do, Cas," Dean mutters gruffly, focusing on his shoes.

"The least you could've done is nothing," Cas counters, "Thank you. It means a lot." His voice is sincere and when Dean catches his gaze, his blue eyes are clear and bright.

"What are you doing here, Cas?" Dean voice is pained. He's spent the last few weeks burying all of his anger and pain toward this man. Having him stand here with that sweet, hopeful look on his face is bringing everything bubbling to the surface. Cas frowns at the question.

"Dean I… " Cas starts, fiddling with a string on his jacket, "I owe you an apology." Dean tenses at the words.

"No," He says flatly. Cas raises his head.

"Dean-" He starts.

"No, Cas," Dean interupts, "I don't want an apology. I don't want your pity."

"It's not about pity. I don't pity you," Cas' eyes are so sincere and Dean didn't realize until this moment how badly he missed them.

"I know… I know this might be a waste of time, but I need to say this," Cas continues, "I care about you. Very deeply, in fact." Dean looks away, not able to look at Cas. He doesn't want to hear this. His pride is telling him to hate this man and never see him again.

"I'm not very experienced with relationships. They don't often happen for me and the ones I have had have been… casual at best," Cas shrugs and takes a step toward Dean, causing the other man to step back. Dean doesn't say anything, just absorbing Cas' words.

"I know it's a long shot, but if you can find it in yourself to give me a second chance…"

"What is your deal, Cas?" Dean barks, anger spilling over, "What? Are you Lonely? Horny?"

"This isn't about sex!" Cas blurts out, "That is the last thing I want from you." Dean raises a brow at that, "Well, ok, maybe not the _last _thing, but it's definitely in the bottom ten, ok? We could take sex off the table completely. For a month, a year, five years, I don't care I just want to be with you!" Dean deflates slightly, Cas' energy draining his anger.

"I know you probably don't want me anymore, and I wouldn't blame you if said no, but I needed to ask you." Cas pulls at his sweat-matted hair, "Because If I didn't then I would never stop wondering and I would hate myself more than I already do." His voice is small and he self-consciously picks at his fingernails.

"Cas..." Dean starts, but he has no idea what to say.

"I want to take you out. Properly, with all the wining and dining and flowers and romantic stuff that you deserve." Cas looks up confidently at that, "You want a relationship, I will date the Hell out of you!" Dean can't help bursting with laughter, in spite of himself. He shakes his head, exasperated, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

"The Hell, Cas?" Dean finally says, "What gives you the right?" Cas' face falls and he swallows hard.

"You show up here with your big blue eyes and, and you say all of this sweet shit," Dean looks down, grimacing, a crinkle forming between his brow, "What happens when work starts stressing you out again, or shit gets hard? What then? Am I going to be disposable again?" He glances up to see Cas' expression crumble. He takes a step toward Dean.

"No, Dean. No," He moves closer and this time Dean doesn't move away, "Never again." He takes another step, moving into Dean's personal space.

"Cas," Dean says. Cas presses his forehead into Dean's. The scent of cinnamon gum and old spice seems to envelop him.

"Please, Dean," Cas whimpers, his voice breaking.

"You're an asshole," Dean mumbles, but there is no fight in his words. He can feel Cas' breath ghost over his cheek. The warmth of his body is magnetic and it seems to draw Dean closer to him.

Their lips touch lightly. It's just a warm, chaste connection. Dean allows his lips to move over Cas' and the taste of him causes something to surge up Dean's spine, pressing harder into the kiss. In an instant, the kiss becomes fevered. Cas' hand run over Dean's neck, cradling the back of his head. His hands clench at Cas' hips, pulling him close as Cas' tongue tangles with Dean's, drawing a moan from deep within him. Every emotion he had shoved deep down rises to the surface.

"I swear to God," Dean says, pulling out of the kiss, "If you are fucking with me I will _murder_ you." Cas lets out a breathy laugh.

"You'll have to get in line behind Balthazar and your brother," he replies.

"You talked to Sam?" Dean asks, furrowing his brow. Cas smiles shyly

"I went to your place to find you and but you weren't there and I didn't know where you worked," Cas mumbles shyly.

"You know you could've called me," Dean offers, nuzzling Cas' cheek.

"You said to lose your number," he replies. Dean pulls back and stares at him. He laughs affectionately.

"Oh my God, Cas, never change," Dean captures Cas' lips once more before suddenly pulling away, "No, wait, scratch that _do_ change. You have a boyfriend now. Act like it! Do all of that romantic shit you promised."

"Boyfriend?" Cas says with a giggle, raising an eyebrow. Dean smirks at him.

"Yeah. Boyfriend," he answers, "You got a problem with that?" Cas laughs brightly.

"Not in the least," he responds before rushing forward for another kiss. They kiss tenderly for another minute when Dean draws back once more.

"I, um, I have another couple hours of work, but let me see if I can talk to Bobby about leaving a little early." Cas nods. Dean turns around to see Bobby standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and wearing his trademark "Old Coot" frown.

"Get outta here, ya idgits," He says, "Y'all two are givin' me diabeetus." Bobby disappears from the doorway. Dean turns back at Cas with a grin.

"Let me get changed," He says. Dean hurries to the back room, stripping out of his coveralls and pulling on a clean t-shirt. He rushes back to the front lobby. Cas is standing just where he left him, reading a brochure on door panels. Dean walks around the counter.

"C'mon," he says, "Let's get going." Cas holds the door open for Dean, and he can't help the beatific grin that blooms over his face. Dean shakes his head, grabs his boyfriend's hand, pulling him toward the impala.


	9. Charges Dismissed

Castiel slowly drifts into consciousness. Early morning sunshine peeks out through the cracks in the shutters and over his face. Cas rolls over to avoid light, hand flopping onto Dean's side of the bed, finding it empty but still warm. His eyes blink open in confusion. He lifts his head to scan the small hotel room, noticing Dean, completely naked, leaning halfway out of their open window.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Cas mumbles, voice still thick from sleep.

"People watching," Dean replies with a shrug, not turning around. Cas runs a hand through his bed-head and grabs his phone off of the night stand.

"It's 6:30," He says with a shake of his head.

"So?" Dean answers, shifting on his feet. For a long moment, Castiel is hypnotized by the muscles of Dean's ass as they move beneath the freckled skin. Castiel smiles unconsciously as he watches his boyfriend.

"We went to bed at 2," Cas says, getting back on track. Dean turns to look at Cas, shooting him a thousand-watt grin.

"I'm just taking it all in," Dean says, "We could totally spend the summer here."

"You could, maybe," Cas says standing up and letting the bed sheet fall away from his own nakedness, "I don't have that many vacation days." It had been Dean's idea to drive down to Key West for Sam's spring break. Balthazar was able to hook them up with a friend who owned a small hotel in the center of Old Town and gave them a good deal. Cas had tried to convince Bal to join them with the promise of Co-eds, but the man had shied away, claiming he got enough of his and Dean's sugary-sweet behavior the other 51 weeks of the year.

They had packed up the Impala with junk food, sunscreen and mix tapes and hit the road minutes after the last bell rang at Sam's high school. The trip happened to fall on Sam's birthday as well, so they were taking to opportunity to celebrate that while they were down here. Dean's gift to Sam was his very first fake ID, emblazoned with the name 'Steve Rogers' ("_I was going to have them put Thor Odinson, but that seemed a little too obvious" Dean said as he handed it over_). Cas' present to Sam was his own hotel room, much to the younger man's joy and relief.

The drive had been uneventful, save for a required detour to Clearwater to visit Castiel's parents. Dean had been nervous, despite Cas' assurances that there was no reason for it. His father had been quiet but friendly and his mother had been suitably doting on both Sam and Dean. Cas hoped that they wouldn't feel too awkward around his folks, but both Winchesters seemed to thrive under the attention. At one point, after Dean spent 20 minutes raving about her caramel apple pie before devouring two-thirds of it, Cas' mom caught her son's eye, gave him a small smirk, and mouthed the words "keep this one". His parents had hugged both Sam and Dean tightly when they left and promises were made all around that all three would return for Christmas ("_Are you sure that's ok, Dean?" Cas said once they were on the road. "Home cooking and not having to deal with snow?" Dean responded, "Of course, it's ok!"_)

Dean stands up and stretches, the muscles of his arms and torso shivering in response.

"I couldn't sleep," Dean admits as he crawls back on their bed, "I'm too excited to be here." They had arrived yesterday afternoon, and Dean had been eager to see everything as soon as they had checked in. It had only been Sam's protest about being dead on his feet that had them returning to their rooms when they did.

"I know you are," Cas reaches out and pulls Dean into his arms, kissing him softly on the forehead, "Let's just rest a little while longer." Cas shuts his eyes and lays back against the pillow. Dean's rough hands run up and down Cas' side, the sensitive skin twitching under his touch. Cas hums a protest, murmuring 'ticklish', which only seems to encourage Dean. He drapes himself over Cas as he plants soft kisses over his collarbone and up his neck. Cas can feel the rasp of Dean's stubble as the younger man nuzzles against his throat. His hands drift down over Cas' abdomen, his fingers lightly grazing over the soft trail of hair just below his navel. A warm tongue sucks at the skin over the pulse point of Cas' neck. Cas inhales deeply and groans in response.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Cas asks slyly, know the other man is fully aware of his actions.

"Motivating you to wake up," Dean says, his words muffled as mouths down Cas' neck. his hand drifts lower, brushing Cas' hardening cock. Cas hisses, reaching out and grabbing Dean's arms tightly.

"If you keep doing that," Cas breathes, staring at Dean with sleepy eyes, "I might just pin you down and keep you in bed for another couple hours." Dean pulls back and gives him a cocky smirk.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Cas," he chides, "You gonna break out the handcuffs again?" Cas' gaze goes dark and he surges forward, capturing Dean's mouth with his own. His hands wrap around the back of Dean's neck as he pulls him on top. Dean closes his eyes and falls into the kiss, Cas mouth warm and demanding. He hums as Cas' tongue sweeps over his lips. Dean's fingers fan over Cas' chest; the rise and fall beneath his hands is somehow exhilarating. Dean he pushes off from Cas' mouth and trails wet kisses down his neck, Cas stretching in response.

Dean slowly slides down Cas' body, his eyes never leaving the other man's face. Cas watches with hooded eyes as Dean continues his course. He inhales sharply as Dean passes over his navel and follows the trail of hair toward his intended destination.

Of all the wonders in the world, Cas doesn't believe there will ever be a sight as glorious as this: Dean's lips just barely brushing over the head of his cock, tongue darting out to lap up and emerging bead of precome. His member bounces in response to the lightest touch and a shiver runs through Cas.

"Dean," He breathes. Dean just glances at him and smiles coyly before wrapping his lips around the shaft and swallowing him down. It's a familiar sensation, Dean giving a blow-job, but Cas doesn't think he will ever stop being fascinated by it. Dean works his throat open slowly, letting the length of Cas cock slide all the way down until he is buried to the hilt. He swallows, causing Cas to cry out in surprise at the sudden sensation. Cas wants to watch him, but every flick of his tongue or pull of his mouth has Cas' head shooting back against the pillow.

He huffs as the familiar tightening curls in his abdomen. He fists Dean's hair and gently pulls him off with a wet noise.

"On your back," Cas demands, slightly breathless. Dean does as he is told, rolling over onto his side of the bed as Cas reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. Dean spreads his legs as Cas leans over him. He works him open slowly, distracting him with kisses and dirty promises.

"Love the way you feel," Cas murmurs, stretching and scissoring him open, "So tight, so perfect. Can't wait to have my cock inside you. Fuck you until all you can say is my name."

"Fuck, Cas," Dean groans, hands gripping his shoulders, "Want you now. Please fuck me." Cas captures Dean's mouth in a heated kiss and he works in a third finger. He brushes against that bundle of nerves inside of him and feels Dean moaning into his mouth. he removes his fingers and coats himself generously before positioning the head of his cock right over Dean's hole.

As he thrusts in, Dean cries out loudly. He grips Dean's hips and pulls him up so he can go deeper. Dean meets Cas for every thrust. He wraps his legs around Cas' middle as the other man fucks into him.

Cas lets his forehead rest against Dean's. They are both panting heavily, neither caring about their morning breath. Every surge forward earns a guttural moan from Dean. He digs his heels into the small of Cas' back.

"So close, Cas," He mumbles. Cas presses himself up onto his forearms and doubles his pace. He can feel Dean clench around him just before hot ropes of come paint across Dean's stomach. Cas follows seconds after with a groan, tensing as his orgasm washes over him.

He suddenly feels boneless and let's himself fall over Dean, not caring about the sticky mess between them. He lazily rolls over and looks at Dean, who looks seconds away from going back to sleep. Cas snorts lightly, causing Dean to open one eye and look at him.

"What?" he asks. Cas gives him a small smile.

"I love you," he says quietly. It's not the first time he's said it, nor the second or third or tenth. But every time he does, Dean has the brightest smile, like he's never said it before. He leans over and kisses Cas tenderly.

"Love you, too," he whispers. He moves in closer, their lips about to meet when there is a knock at the door.

"Dean? Cas?" Sam says hesitantly. He learned several months ago that if Cas and Dean are alone in a room, it's always better to knock. "Are either of you able to come to the door right now?"

"Depends on your level of comfort with nudity, Sammy," Dean yells out. Cas smacks his arm playfully and Sam's 'Seriously, Dean?' can be heard on the other side of the door.

"Not really," Cas Answers.

"I'm going to grab some breakfast and coffee. You want anything?" Sam asks. Cas is already getting off the bed.

"Yeah. Hold on, Sam," he replies. He finds his shorts on the floor and digs for his wallet, pulling out a twenty. He opens the door just enough to hand Sam the money and mumble a thanks.

"So what do you want to do today?" Cas asks closing the door. He walks in to their en suite bathroom and wets a washcloth, tossing it to Dean as he re-enters the room.

"I don't know," Dean says, wiping the leftover spunk off of his stomach, "I think Sam wanted to see the Hemingway Museum sometime. We could do that." Cas flops back on the bed next to Dean.

"Sounds good," Cas replies, " We need to go snorkeling, too, as long as we're down here. Get out into open water." Dean raises an eyebrow at the words 'open water', but Cas distracts him with a gentle kiss.

"If you say so, Officer," Dean murmurs.


End file.
